DIMITRI'S POV

Before my Dad passed from his disease at thirty-five, he had brought me to this very room at fifteen.

The man was on his sick bed encroaching death faster than I could find a witch or a healer that could concoct something to help him get better.

My old man and I were not close. Hell, we were more like strangers but I did not want the man to die. I knew what his death meant. The giant photos in the hallways told me enough. With each photo, the successor of the Galdina throne got ...