Fabricated Destiny

RONAN'S POV

Servants moved around me like bees in a hive, each carrying a different suit, different fabric, different shade of blue or black or something equally forgettable. My mother dismissed each one with a flick of her wrist.

“Too blue,” she said to one.

“Ew.” That was for the second.

“Old.” The third.

“Maybe if it were darker,” she murmured to the fourth before sighing and turning toward me.