“Do you think he’s dead?” The dark blue eyes regarded the man, and a slim finger poked the Ebon-Gray Warlord Prince’s bicep. The girl, well- the young woman, really, was about sixteen or so. Although she was in the Healing room, she was not a Healer. Not even one in training. Caroline Hunter was merely the daughter of the Healer, and as such, used to assisting.
“Caroline, he is most certainly not dead. He’s submerged in a deep healing web, and please stop checking him out. Your Uncle will have your hide.” The girl laughed at her mother’s words, musical tones that brightened the room.
“Uncle Samael doesn’t have to know, mother. Besides, the Prince is unconscious. That’s no fun!”
Miranda quirked an eyebrow at her fair-haired child. As usual, Caroline ignored her mother’s expression, and continued to explore the attractive man. Her hands trailed down his chest, and still ignoring her mother, closer to the sheet that draped the man for modesty’s sake. Just as her fingers had taken hold of the sheet, a strong hand wrapped gently around her wrist, pulling her away.
“Lady, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His light-blue eyes were unfocused. Another woman might think he was still waking up. Caroline, a Queen with a Warlord Prince in her service already, knew better.
“I think you’re right, Prince.”
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