Khasinau’s thoughts on Apollonia had faded, giving way to a new desire for acceptance. He hated being alone. Nobody spoke to him (this could well be because he didn’t speak to them, but I digress). He was alone, pushed aside by his father, his stepmother/half-sister . . . the new pups were their attention’s destination.
He wondered sometimes about his mother, whether she was well. She didn’t deserve to be. Leaving him like that, leaving Nephilim, taking Derevko. Sleeping with another on the very night she conceived her three trueborn children. It was a disgrace. Khasinau hoped she died some miserable death.
War was approaching between Tarben and Sabertooth. Some Sabertooth prince had stolen a Tarben girl. What brutish behavior, thought the Skyling Hawthorne resident as he moved through the expanse of wildflowers he had entered; even he wouldn’t dare to pull such a move. He stepped through a patch of glowing flora, looking at them with interest, and leaned close to sniff.

“Marital advice from you, wonderful. Like what, don’t betray your spouse?”