“Sorry, Highness, Majesty, he just…” the guard tried to apologise. He took one look at the cruel gaze Geoffrey levelled at him and knew he’d regret speaking like he did. He withdrew. Handy, reluctantly, followed him. Joachim looked at his father. The king was covered in his robes, and his face obscured by a great shawl which rose and fell with his breath. His wings, once mighty and proud, were shrivelled and moulting. He had changed so much since he last saw him. Where was the giant? The seeming immortal he had looked up to all his life? Where was his strength? Was this what time did to him? What it does to them all…