The NewBreeder
They turned as soon as they saw us, as though we’d interrupted something private.
“Amaya, come here. Jordan, you’re dismissed,” Christian ordered, his tone clipped. Jordan gave me a sympathetic look before walking away. I approached and stood quietly until Christian spoke again.
“Amaya, this is Reverend McDonald,” Christian said, introducing the man. I shook his hand. “He’s here to give you your royal mark.”
I stared in disbelief. The royal mark was a tattoo of the family crest, etched onto the back of every royal’s neck once they came of age. I had resisted getting mine—I wanted to earn it first.
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