Queen Olane was disappointed. Disappointed in the blue haired scum that was her… son. He was nothing she was, and that made her furious. How could he be so weak, so open-hearted, and how dare he filthy the family name she had only barely cleaned by playing with the rats that were the servant children. She needed an heir, one who could keep the worlds in check. Yes, Searow was pathetic, but her blood son wasn’t much better. Connor couldn’t hold a sword, let alone a conversation with dignitaries. They were only nine, but still she had expected more. Searow had been thrust upon her, unwelcome. He was adopted, and she only grudgingly tolerated him because he would be the heir if Connor didn’t work out. So, for now, she would have to mold them into the perfect children, perfect models for the throne. She glanced out the window at the setting sunlit courtyard, looking for either of her sons. Connor was nowhere to be found, but Searow… Olane wrinkled her nose in disgust. He was crouched down, digging with a stick in the dirt next to a white haired girl. Servant child. A few others sat nearby, giggling together while the tall goat horned man ,Olane had noticed hung around recently, stood watching them. The little white haired girl was digging furiously, then stood up, crying out with happiness as she displayed what she found to her little companions. Obsidian. Olane stared hard at the girl for a moment, a thought forming in her head. But no, it couldn’t be. She? Olane smiled. The little girl was special. And Olane had her now. Maybe she would have an heir, just not the prince she expected.