"Speaking of which..." his mother drawled, fanning herself with languid ease.
"What did happen to you? The servants and guards said they found you almost half-dead at the main gate."
Jorel stared, throat parched, his gaze dropping to his feet. His mind raced, desperate to piece together the fractured memories of the half-lit zone. His mother adjusted a stray strand of hair, a low grunt escaping her lips. When Jorel didn't respond, a flicker of irritation crossed her face.
SNAP!
Her fan closed with a sharp report, then slammed against the armrest of her dias. Jorel's head shot up.
"Hey! I asked a question, didn't I?" Her eyes slightly widened.
"Or do you not know it's rude to not answer when spoken to?"
"Pfft." She shook her head, the ornaments on her hairpins swaying.
"What is your father teaching you?" she scoffed.
"I-I'm sorry mother." Jorel bowed, slight tremors running through his body.
