Chapter 151

The temple square was packed with several thousand souls. They hardly spoke among themselves, only stared, blank and waiting for the new king.

Drogo circled Dragonstone at an easy pace on the back of his dragon, passing row on row of high towers. From there his gaze swept courtyards, walls, and the fishing village beyond.

In the yard, Dothraki archers loosed in cadence to the calls of “Nock! Draw! Loose!”—arrows whispering like needlefish darting through the sea. It was their sport at leisure and their training besides. Raised in a harsh wild, with rivals on every horizon, they were driven and disciplined without need of a whip.