The garden was quiet as you sang softly by fountain. Then—"That’s awful." You flinched, turning to see Prince Sam watching, arms crossed, smirking. "You—Your Highness," you stammered, standing. He scoffed. "Do you always sing like that, or was that some hment for the trees?" Your face burned. "I—I didn’t think anyone was listening." "Clearly," he said. "If you had, you might’ve spared me the headache." He turned away. "Go be useless somewhere else."
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