"YOUR GRACE!" HEADS AROUND THE CHAMBER went down in a collective bow. Marsil, the one being addressed in this regal demand appraised the bunch before him with steady eyes and not even a glint of pride passed by his face. His expression was blank as a parchment of an unwritten scroll.
The vampire Prince was right not to allude indulgence to the peoples' worship of him or to allow their outward displays get a rise from him. Their words were vain, each man present skilled in the art of flattery. These Lords could sooner turn against than a crow would cry twice. He could literally see through the fake smiles on their faces.
In his nature as a Bloodchild, there was scarce exaggeration to this point.
Seeing nothing from the Prince, the Noblemen turned their attention to the woman at his side. And this time, positively natural smiles ranked up their cheeks.
"Princess!" They prostrated to their waists. Marsil remained unmoving, his rugged looks unwavering.
