Lost Creek Hollow In the dead of Night

Ah, her Majesty Sorscha, what an honour, he grinned. Lately, Taikon had not been particularly playful. Most of the joy from his youth had seemingly died with it. The chestnut she-wolf seemed to like his flavoured speech and demeanor, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. Being happy was both exhausting and a welcome reprieve from his misery.
As Sorscha laughed, he became infected with it. One thing he had learned in the Teekon Wilds was that it was teeming with pleasant women. Creatures that should have made him able to forget. Actually, in a former life I really was a prince, he said, his accent disappeared and his true, smooth voice surfacing. He said it as though it was a weird fact, grinning weirdly as though he could barely believe it himself. That life seemed far away. It was.