Excerpt: Formerly The Kiss of the Van Jarovich Coven

In addition to all these things Sergei seemed to naturally excel at, my brother was also beautiful. He had by the graces been blessed with the attractive features of our mother. His hair was the color of fall leaves, dark red highlighted with brilliant crimson, and his eyes were the most enchanting color of green, not brilliant, but subtle in their beauty. All throughout his life, his skin was perfection, unblemished, pale even after long exposure to sunlight, which was incredibly fetching.

Being born second to this angel was no shame at all.

Sons born second, like myself, were given to war. It had been a long tradition of Neryndale’s ruling family to keep a standing army even during times of peace. Sons were not taken exceptionally young from their families and thrust into brutal conditions, but instead they spent short periods at training camps throughout their childhood at different times instead. Thus, if battle was ever pressed upon us or a campaign for resources was needed, the men were already well trained and prepared for the ordeal.

The traditions of the first and second born sons had been in place in our lands for many generations, and they were much respected by the people instead of an emergency draft to fill the battle ranks. Through my own studies, I found that such drafts often produced large numbers of disgruntled soldiers ill prepared for the hardships of battle and the horrors to be seen there.

And generally, it turned out well enough more times than not that the first born was well suited to taking his father’s place, and the second born either well fit the role of a fighter, or did so by the time their training was complete. It seemed to us that the fates agreed with our ways, and this only strengthened our belief in them.