The shift in the Ferryman's demeanor was so sudden it almost made me dizzy. One moment, he was a cynical gatekeeper spitting tobacco and trying to get me to pay the toll, and the next, he was practically trying to bury himself in the silt out of sheer terror.
"Stand up, Barkas," Noah said, his voice dropping into that low, resonant tone of authority. He didn't sound angry, just... tired. "We're not here for a royal procession. We just need to cross."
The Ferryman scrambled to his feet, his green scales slick with mud, his yellow eyes darting between Noah and the rest of us.
He looked around, trying to figure out our relationship, and his eyes fixed especially on me, the female who had just been calling a King by his first name like it was nothing.
He could smell the truth.
"Of course, Your Majesty. Right away," Barkas stuttered, gesturing wildly toward the gangplank. "The boat is yours. No toll! No toll for the Silver Wolf!"
