The Torn Prince
Page 20
The heft of sorrow lifted when the queen cleared her throat before clapping her hands once.
“My sweet son, my guest would like to be trained in fencing. It would give me immense pleasure if you were to guide him as his personal coach.”
Now she was spreading it on a little too thick.
Rather than deny his mother’s request outright, which would turn into a battle of wills, Zareb decided to encourage the young man to change his mind. “How old are you, boy.”
His narrow, slumped shoulders straightened. “Eighteen.”
Zareb scoffed. “What happened to your voice? You sound like a girl.”
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