A forgery. A last grasp at retaining his precious birthright, no doubt, that had been stolen from Jincan since before he could walk or talk. “You are the forgery,” he said contemptuously, eyeing the other medal only briefly. If everyone could replicate the medallion, then what was the point?
He pulled up the sleeve of his left arm. The skin there was unblemished and pale. Applying the medal to it, he counted two heartbeats and then lifted it away. “Still think it’s a forgery?” Underneath the skin, where the medal had been pressed, his blood glowed. Traces of his veins and vessels could be clearly seen: royal blood reacting to the magic of the medallion. A commoner would not have triggered its effect and surely this fake prince of the Zhu tribe had to know it.
“I have returned to reclaim my place by my father’s side.” He tucked the medal away, back into the inner pocket which was safe from thieving hands. “And you can either come with me peacefully, or I will bring you in by force. It’s your choice.”