Evriss stood in front of his future throne in the ballroom. His gaze travelled among the faerie folk, his expression not disguising his annoyance and lack of excitement.

His tastes were high, surely none of these… pitiful folk women would impress him. They were simple, easy, boring.

“Pity, pity…” He yawned, taking a large gulp of his red wine. His golden painted lips smearing on the glass.