Third person
Prince Rain and Cealan walked back to his wing, and still the prince was quiet. His steps felt heavier than ever, and the sudden weight of the responsibility he was carrying pressed down on his shoulders like an inevitable curse.
Outside the tainted palace walls, people had begun speculating. Some said he was now in a good place...some praised him for proving his worth and finally getting his father's acceptance and love, but Rain knew better than anyone else this wasn't love.
But if this was love, then what had he watched the king shower Marcus with all his life? Marcus had always been like a little saint, a demigod whose authority no one dared challenge.
Rain had witnessed scenes where he was the victim, with wounds, cuts, and bruises aligning with his side of the story, and the man he called father had spared him a second's glance and said words that would never leave him.
"So it is now your brothers' fault for your weakness?"
