Yay I made it to 100 days.

Rhaenan looked out over Crown City from her tower perch. The light of the rising sun touched the red roof tiles of some of the taller buildings. The long dark shadows of the towers of the castle stretched out toward those light patches like grasping fingers. The cool shade felt refreshing. A few clouds decorated the horizon, like a promise of future blessed water to come to the now arid environment of Adnor. The coronation of King Angestirian of Adnor would happen in a few hours, hopefully before the coolness of the morning had entirely burned up. The new king would be crowned by Countess Byvora, an older lady who had taken to the role of spy with enthusiasm and who happened to be the only noble left, other than Gestin, of the royal family. He could, she supposed, crown himself if he wanted. But he wouldn’t. She had no role in the ceremony. Nor did she want one, she reminded herself. She had a life outside of Adnor, one she hadn’t been visited in too many years. She looked around the tower, with its arched windows and tiled dome overhead. She’d held a knife to his throat just there and almost thrown him off the tower at that opening. Some days she wished she had thrown him off, stubborn peasant. His cry of dismay when she’d jumped out that same window still made her smile. She’d of course made a flip and grab and climbed up to the top of the dome to where her gyrhor waited and escaped into the night. Would she be able to escape as easily this time? And did she even want to?