The Princes of Ravenwood
I hadn’t been sure how no one knew which and then how they got away with the things they do.
“What’s that mean?” he asked. “Well, some of the whispers I heard call you the Princes of Ravenwood. It just seems like a bit much,” I explained, pointing my chopstick with sashimi on it at him as I talked. Before I could bring the bite to my mouth, he ate it. “Mhm. Well, that’s just because of our family,” he shrugged.
“And that means?” I furrowed my brow, annoyed he took my food. “And stop stealing my food. I’m not trying to feed you,” I grumbled.