glitter and gold is the man in the chair
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
LANGUAGE WARNING
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
LANGUAGE WARNING
Lorca rarely left the Keep, preferring to spend his time on silk sheets and wrapped in gold rather than out in the hot desert sand. Yet he was so irritated tonight that he left the stones and their tap, tap, tap in exchange for the silence of the sand, slipping out into the desert like a silver serpent. It was getting harder to be lazy around this damn Court, everyone was up in a flurry following orders as if Maxence was one of their own. Ha. A foreign commander leading Solterra. Who would have thought Avdotya would have followed him. The idea set his plump lip curling into a sneer - she had murdered the last Solterran King, why did she hesitate at this one?
If there was one nice thing Velorca could say about their new Sovereign it was this: he was not Zolin. He didn't cover himself in jewels and gold, dressed up like some pompous asshole as he ordered everyone around. No. Maxence was at the other end of the spectrum - he cared for warriors and warriors only.
So far Lorca hadn't met anyone of the same opinion, but with upcoming war that Maxence had provoked, he was certain there would be some discontent. Why start a fucking war over nothing? Did that mean nobody could leave Solterra without this new King (the word sent disgust shuddering down his slick spine) clapping them in irons? Did nobody see the injustice of it?
Injustice. He scoffed. It was a malleable word.
His golden gaze stopped upon a dainty woman, looking her over with disinterest underneath the starry sky. He made to take another path but paused - perhaps meeting others of the court would be advantageous. Besides, the woman was the Champion of whatever - he remembered her from the meeting.
"Going somewhere? You know if you leave Maxence will just clap you in chains and drag you right back."
@
