Raphael sighed and knew that gods did not have much patience. "You are free to leave, naturally—as long as you don't share a word. But do know, that when I ascend to be the next King or am rewarded... I won't think of you that much either."
"Did you hear me complain?" the god laughed. "I can burn letters from this princess' daddy dearest all day! Just give me the word and I can even burn the entire castle of this King Draco if you really want it to be done."
Raphael paused and looked at the god. As much as he was tempted to kill Rowena's evil father, if he did something like that, word would quickly spread around.
It wasn't obvious, but King Draco was not just any regular human. Twenty-odd years ago he was deemed worthy enough to attend the Tournament to Godhood. Had he won, he would have been one of them now, not just a mere mortal.
