Marceline despised him.
She knew such a hateful emotion was unbecoming of a lady of her stature, and she took care never to give it voice. Her feeling for him was irrelevant anyway. He was Nar’s premiere breeding expert, and all noble families courted his good opinion as if he were the Prince himself.
He came round once a year to comment on the shape of Marceline’s ears, the length of her torso and legs, the youthfulness in her face, all to her mother’s rapturous delight.
Marceline was not complimented. To the contrary, she felt rather like a prized hog.
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