YEARS AGO…
I've always hated the grand dining hall. Its high ceilings and tapestries depicting our ancestors' great battles only serve to remind me of my own insignificance. As the seventh son out of twelve, I'm neither here nor there, not important enough to be heard, not unimportant enough to be ignored entirely. It's a special kind of purgatory.
Tonight, as I push my roasted pheasant around my plate, I can feel the weight of invisibility settling over me like a shroud. The voices of my brothers rise and fall around me, a symphony of importance that I'm not invited to join.
"Father, I insist we increase our patrols along the eastern border," Aldric, our crown prince, booms from the head of the table. "The vampire clans are growing bolder by the day." My brother's voice is loud, loud
