A few chuckles pass through the crowd, though I don’t know why. I feel completely serious, but I hear murmurs describing my cuteness. The other man blinks, looking up at Sinclair as if he expects him to chastise me. “My apologies, your highness.” Sinclair states simply. “She’s a fierce little thing at the best of times.” The words sound like an excuse for my behavior, but his tone is full of praise and his arms tighten around me affectionately.
Too late, his address for the other man filters through my brain. Your Highness. That must mean this is the prince, and Sinclair’s main opponent in the election. It’s no wonder I found him so imposing, or why he resembles the King so much.
“Well, what more could we want in a Luna.” The Prince remarks, not sounding like he means a single word of
