"Katarina, what have you done?" My father asks in disappointment as he sits upon his throne, propping his chin on his palm while his elbow rests on the arm of the metallic, symbolic furnishing. I frown at him, trying to mask my sadness with anger. I've always hated disappointing my father.
“Your daughter has shamed the Mao name, your Grace.” The irritating voice besides my father interrupts as I glare angrily and silently at him. Lord Pilaf. My father’s Hand. The man is cunning in his own way, yet when it comes to people, he is a fool. Right now, if he were wise, he would be silent and keep this between me and my father. My father glares at him as well, and I realize he is thinking the same thing as he clearly ignores the prodding and returns his attention to me.
"Is it true?" My father
