CHAPTER SEVEN
The palace was buzzing with rumors. Prince Ranaan sifted through the conversations of the servants as they dashed about, whispering in not-so-quiet tones. He feigned ignorance and continued making his way through the vast hallways that led above ground and to the throne room. The servants were always full of gossip and sharing the latest intrigue, but today was different.
Today, there was talk of death.
Barely reaching five feet, Ranaan was not an intimidating figure. His hair was black and of medium length, usually tied in a pony-tail. His bangs hung down in sharp points and he was always pushing them aside. His eyes were an icy blue and stood out vividly when he wore his formal white uniform. The youngest of his father’s two sons, he would not take the throne but instead
