"You look like a princess from a fairy tale. A very angry princess."
'A... a Princess?!'
"I AM NOT A PRINCESS!" Alistair snapped, abandoning all aristocratic decorum, scrambling to his feet, clutching the pastry boxes as if they were weapons. He glared down at the tiny, dark-haired child with venomous indignation. "I am a nobleman of the Empire! My hair is a symbol of my scholarly devotion! And I am entirely, completely masculine, you uncultured, feral little provincial gremlin!"
"Alistair," Kaelus warned, his voice instantly dropping the amusement, shifting into a cold, lethal rumble. "Watch your tone when addressing the Sovereign."
Alistair flinched, remembering exactly who he was talking to.
He took a deep breath, smoothing down his ruined scholar robes, forcing his beautiful, furious face into a mask of cold, haughty disdain.
