Logan
I remembered the first time I saw Jesse. It was not a moment I would easily forget.
We were in a bustling market. My mother used to take me out like that when I was little so that I could explore the streets and people I would one day reign over.
It was one of those summer days when the scent of roasted nuts and spiced meat filled the air, making my mouth water with their fragrance. The sun was golden, and every color felt brighter and louder than usual.
I was maybe six years old. Trailing behind my mother, I was thinking more about sneaking a candied apple than anything noble.
Then I saw him.
A boy around my age, maybe a little smaller. He had wild brown curls and scraped knees. He was wearing a shirt one size too big, filled with holes and dusted with dirt.
The boy st
