“And since when am I good?” That was Duncan, defending himself against his companion’s words. “I only see the best in myself. I made this clothing myself at the orphanage. Didn’t they make you sew here?”
“I was born here,” the other boy said with a haughty tone. “At the main headquarters, we weren’t treated like village orphans like you. And by the way, listen to yourself. You've picked up an American accent. I don’t know how the King puts up with you. Oh, and if you’ve grown, you have even more freckles than last year,” he mocked as he got up from his cot and then left the room, which looked more like a cell than a youth dormitory.
Duncan pressed his lips tightly in annoyance but chose not to say anything about it. Yet in the end, he couldn’t resist and exclaimed:
“Your jealousy is wha
