Ruler of Angels | The Royal Legacies Series

| 𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 |

𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 |𝖓| 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖓𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖗 𝖚𝖓𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌

"What do you mean he kicked you!" A woman's laugh rings out into the room. 

Vaeril only chuckles at her enthusiasm, "I said what I said, Asava."

"He kicked me and saved my life. Either he didn't want to die, or was a terrible mercenary."

The woman in the room laughs once more, "Did you tell my brother this? He'll love this story."

"I barely believed it when he came and told me last night!" Morian, the youngest heir to the throne, joins in on the conversation from the other side of the room.

Vaeril twirls a piece of hair through his fingers as he continues to read some papers, "I can barely believe it myself. He was truly something."

"Was he hot?"

"Seriously, Asava?"

She chuckles, "He didn't kill you..."

The king shakes his head, "I will not condone your terrible taste in men. Let alone a human man."

"Does it make a difference? I would only outlive him by a few years."

"No!" Her brother comes into the room, "I don't care. Humans. Elf. Shapeshifter. Or even a dwarf! I don't want you courting a mercenary."

Alova gives his sister a glare and she only sighs, "I'll die alone at this rate, brother."

"Better than having a broken heart, dear." Thronal finally contributes to the conversation from a long string of silence.

She shrugs, "I wouldn't court him anyway. Seems more of your type anyway, Vaeril."

The king spits out his drink and starts to cough, his hand coming up to cover his mouth with a napkin. The other's laughter reaches his ears as he calms down from a coughing fit, "Must you joke about things like that?"

Asava gives him a cheeky smile before turning back to the paper before her. He watches as she dips the feather into the ink and turns back to continue writing information onto the page.

Vaeril shakes his head before standing up, "I'll see you all later. Thronal?"

The advisor comes up and nods, "After you."

The others watch as the two leave the room, the king heading towards another meeting with the soldiers of the castle. The three left in the room exchange glances at each other before they break out into a fit of laughter once more.

"Morian?"

"Yes, Alova?"

Said elf chuckles again before speaking, "You know him the best..."

Morian raises an eyebrow, "I'd like to think so as his younger brother. Why?"

"It has me thinking..." Asava tunes into the conversation but acts like she's still working, "His type. What is it? He must like someone, right? Or at least have a specific quality he likes."

The prince shrugs, "You know that's a complicated subject, Alova. As much as we're close I couldn't tell you the last time I saw him like someone. Or love someone for that matter. Honestly, I don't think he has."

A sudden feeling of sadness swells in the room and leaves them silent for a moment before they finally decide to break the trance and start working again.