"I know about Mila's relationship with the gardener," Altan whispered, pulling her closer, curling a finger under her chin. She stared up at him naive as a doe in a forest.
"The elders do not and will not accept the relationship," Altan continued. "The elders will never accept a marriage with the poor."
"Mila's relationship?" Lina echoed, feigning ignorance even though she knew the truth. As well as a terrifying revelation that had left both sisters speechless.
"Yangs hail from royal blood," Altan boldly declared. "You are blue-blooded, but us Medeors are mixed. I'm just a mutt."
"Altan, you know I do not like to hear such words from your mouth," Lina muttered. "I do not care, I—"
"So when the elders wage over the dinner table, you must reject it. You must tell them that you—"
"Third Young Master!"
