“I’ll never be quite as beautiful again in your eyes because you think I’m the daughter of a pig farmer?” Then he heard their voices, climbing out of the darkness, like a chorus of harpies swooping up from Hell. “Farmer’s daughter?” “Our little sister?” “Why, she is of royal blood. She is cousin of the old king.” He couldn’t see who was speaking; he only heard three distinct voices coming from the darkness. Something about the voices unnerved him.
