The morning hit Cherion like a blow.
Snap.
The velvet curtains were yanked aside with such unnecessary violence that the rings shrieked against the metal rod.
"Rise and shine, Sir Cherion. The sun has been up for nearly an hour."
Soren's voice was like a fresh apple and just as tart. Cherion groaned into the depths of his pillow, his hair sticking out in every conceivable direction. He looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge backward, and frankly, he felt worse.
"Can I… just… sleep for, like, two more hours?" Cherion mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Soren raised an eyebrow. "Please rise, My Lord. I shall prepare your bath." Without another word, he gave Cherion a pointed look and started to walk away.
