"Really?"
King Kessel's voice came from across the long table, incredibly cold.
"Is this the matter you've been brooding over?"
The King's shadow stretched long on the wall behind him by the firelight, and his eyes shimmered with faint mockery:
"Your… mother?"
Thales gazed deeply at King Kessel.
Therren Girana.
High Priest Lexia, Queen Keira, Old Crow, Griwo—almost everyone who knew his mother held starkly different opinions about this woman.
So, what about his father?
"Don't forget," the prince spoke softly:
"I inherited her name."
Or perhaps more.
The King snorted lightly.
"Gilbert never should have let you choose that middle name."
He spoke slowly, his words chilling with indifference:
"Meaningless."
Thales also smiled faintly and shook his head:
"As far as I know, it was you who told Gilbert her name."
"What then do you expect?"
The King's response was swift and cold:
