"You overestimate me, My Dawn." Damian said.
"Oh, but I estimate you just right, Prince of Darkness." Lorraine's smirk was slow, her lips glistening with wine.
She knew how "close" Prince Damian was with the lord chamberlain of the Emperor, the same chamberlain who had so conveniently replaced Hadrian Arvand in the duty of pouring the Emperor's drinks. Once she'd learned that, the rest had been child's play to piece together.
"What is it? Missing your royal father already?" she asked, voice light but blade-sharp. She knew his father had no love for him. She had never understood why the men who sent their sons as hostages ended up resenting them. Guilt, perhaps. Or cowardice.
They despise their sons for how they chose to survive. What was wrong with them surviving? Why should they forfeit their life? That was not fair. They were already paying for the mistakes of their fathers.
