A Game of Keys      

"Enough with the questions, Emelia," Sinclair snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Leave my daughter out of whatever scheme you're plotting."

The word "daughter" made my fine hairs stand on end. I wasn't used to hearing someone call me that, especially with such affection behind it.

Maybe "granddaughter" would have felt more fitting?

Emelia laughed, her voice ringing out like a bell. "Plotting? What an accusation! I think a prince of Vassalia is an excellent match for her. In terms of status, he wouldn't be any less than the others, would he?"

I blinked in disbelief. Prince? She couldn't possibly be referring to anyone but Prince Raelan Alysir—her favorite grandson, right?

There were many in the Alysir royal bloodline, but Queen Emelia's affection centered solely on him. He was the golden child, and impossibly spoiled I heard.