The Royal camp was wrapped in the deep darkness of the Deltou Colossale Forest, with fire-lamps casting eerie, shifting shadows inside Prince Cassain's fancy tent.
Darius Rathur, his dark hair catching the warm glow, gripped a glass of amber liquor, his knuckles whitening as anger surged through him. With a snarl, he smashed the glass onto the table, shards flying in a sharp burst.
"Now, everybody in the camp praises him. He will be untouchable if we don't take quick action."
With his blue eyes shining with dark amusement, Cassain, who was relaxing in a soft velvet chair, raised a hand to calm him.
"What? You think my sister's going to steal the crown because of him?" He let out a low, mocking laugh, gesturing to a servant who stepped forward with a new glass.
Cassain poured Darius another drink. "Relax, Darius. You're fretting over me, but I'm not the one who needs saving."
