“While chasing your ghost, I became one myself.”

“Will you stop reading from that book for all of our sanities.” I couldn’t help but snap, you would too if you’d listened to your little sister rattle on about your ancestors for hours. “Half of that is probably made up.”

“The king tried to claim the dragon ghost but was engulfed in flames.” She said, looking over the book with facination.

“He was a fool then.”

“You can’t speak about our great grandfather like that.”

I laughed at her, it escaped before I could stop myself. “He would probably agree with me if he wasn’t dust.”

She gave me a filthy look as she slammed her book shut. She was never one for enjoying dark jokes. Always a little bit too serious. Never letting herself switch off.

Whereas I was quite the opposite. I had given up in truth. I wasn’t in line to the throne. My older brother Henry was the next prince to take the throne. I felt as though I had no purpose in life.

“Just because you are miserable you don’t need to make everyone around you the same.” My younger sister said before storming out of our library.

I thought my jokes were rather entertaining as opposed to depressing. Although maybe the fact that many people couldn’t stand to be around me very long, may have been evidence of my humour not being a massive hit.

I glanced over at the painting on the wall of the great dragon ghost. Maybe I should try and tame him. Being engulfed in flames sounded like a mercy.