If the royal family were ever to be asked as to whether or not Prince Tarenn Brooker was an excitable young man, there would be absolutely no doubt that each member present would answer with a very emphatic yes. So when Tarenn cracked one green eye open to the sunbeams creeping across his pillow, sucked in a breath of morning air, and saw a pale, unfamiliar face hovering inches from his nose, he went absolutely ballistic.
"Gods above, you scream like a woman," a high voice snorted. He squeaked and clapped both his hands over his face, which was quickly becoming frozen in a mask of such fear it was almost comical.
"Oh, come now. Don't be so frightened."
He didn't move.
"Are you alright?" Despite to the nature of the question, the voice asking didn't sound like it held much concern.
He peeked out from behind his fingers and saw that the owner of the voice was a short, dark-eyed, black-haired girl who looked to be around nineteen. Her pants and boots were filthy and riddled with ho