Uther paced his room like a caged wolf, his boots hitting the floor with heavy, angry steps. He had been restless since dawn, when he watched Xaden, Jasmine, Anna, and even that meddling Nanny Nia mount the royal carriages bound for the Queen's palace.
The bells had rung, the banners were raised, and Uther had been forced to stand among the rest of the pack and bow as though he were one of the common men.
Him, Uther, kept behind like some forgotten shadow.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. Why him? Why not me?
He had plotted, schemed, and bled for this place, and yet they didn't even consider him worthy enough to step into the Queen's court.
Instead, he was left to rot, left to watch others take the glory.
