An interview book with a twist - you get to ask your favrourite characters questions.
Ever wanted to talk to a character in a book? Ask them a question? Want to know more about their story? Now you can. (Assuming the author of the story allows i...
Prince Toom has never questioned the safety and power of his family - until he meets Niako, the cunning, arrogant, and unnervingly beautiful son of the enemy Rakim chief. In Rakim, Toom discovers heinous traditions beyond his imagination, such as Claiming enemies as personal slaves.
When Toom returns to Rakim ten years later, Niako proves more enigmatic than ever, and Toom grapples with conflicting feelings and an unsettling attraction. With the throne and his own family at stake, Toom attempts to seduce Niako to unveil Rakim's plots. Niako reveals little but offers foreboding advice: flee Rakim and never return.
As political machinations and cruel appetites overtake the land, Toom must work together with Niako to save the nation. To protect those he loves. And to survive.
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Hi there. Can I call you Niako?
I'm not sure it matters much what you call me. Call a donkey a horse, and it's still just a donkey. Call Toom a prince, and he's still... well, he'll always be Toom.
Alright. Well, welcome and thanks for agreeing to talk to us today.
It sounds almost as though you think I had a choice.
I like to think so. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda? Coffee? Wine? Whiskey?
I'll have a chalice of prak. No, no, just leave the bottle here. Thank you.
One bottle coming up. Tell me a little about yourself?
Good Goddess, what did you do to this prak? It tastes of cat piss, though it lacks the strength. Please, no excuses about the suffering economy. I frequent a tavern covered in rodent feces, and their prak is not this watered down. Seven hells, even Toom could handle this.
Oh, what was that? Something about myself? Well, I'm terribly pleasant, as I'm sure you've gathered.
I'm beginning to get a picture. Where do you live?
A few years ago, I moved out of the palace into the slums. Don't give me that pitying look — I chose it. And no, I don't care about the people in the slums. But if you knew the people in the palace, you would understand.
