They were called the Sun and the Moon. One bright and golden, the other eclipsed in shadow. The twin princes grew up with their father in Odrend, in the marble, turreted palace overlooking the capital city of Highcaster.
At six, they charmed the courtiers as they ran through the throne room, their hands clasped between them. At fourteen, they raced their stallions through the streets, dodging fruit vendors and ducking under fabric strung above as colored dye dripped on their heads. At seventeen, they flirted with girls at Highcaster’s solstice festivals, the palace overlooking the city from its perch on the cliff.
At twenty, their father, the king, was found with his throat split open, the satin sheets heavy and dark with his blood, his eyes open and staring blankly up.
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