Thanks to all who commented last week. (It never occurred to me that one couldn’t talk to unicorns!)
“May I ask your name?” She was sure she had asked who he was before, but he had been trying to calm her and if he had answered she had missed it.
“My name is Pashevel,” he replied. “And may I ask who I have the honor of sharing my fire with?”
“Pash–!” She broke off, staring at him, her mouth open, her eyes wide. “Pashevel, son of Vellindrin?” He inclined his head in acknowledgement and she gasped. “My liege!” She tried to sit up again, clutching at the blanket as it slipped and falling backward, weak and unbalanced. “Prince Pashevel…”
“No, please. Just Pashevel.”
“But – but you are the Crown Prince…”
Um, yeah. He’s the Crown Prince, Mar… the man that you pretty much accused of molesting you, and of letting you be attacked by a stranger, is your future king. Great first impression you made there…
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