My pleasure
I glare at him. Hell with the rebellion and shit. I want my brother in one way or another. I can be dramatic and slit his throat at the same time.
"I think you have pressing matters than this,"
For example, his father with a mustache.
The man is a towering presence, dressed in royal blue and gold, his silvered hair and sharp features exuding power. He doesn't need a crown to command attention. Beside him is a woman dressed in shimmering gold, her beauty cold and cruel, like a statue carved from frost.
And then there's the girl.
She's not young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with sable curls and a soft, heart-shaped face that looks like it's never known anything harsher than silk. Her mask is delicate, a lattice of white and gold that matches her gown, and she smiles shyly at the man standing next to her, her fingers clutching the edge of his sleeve like a lifeline.
"That's her?" I whisper.
