“I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name—” “It’s Sorscha,” she said, though there was no anger in it, as there should have been. The spoiled prince and his entitled friends, too absorbed in their own lives to bother learning the name of the healer who had patched them up again and again. She finished wrapping his hand and he said, “In case we didn’t say it often enough, thank you.” Those green-flecked brown eyes lifted again. A tentative smile. “It’s an honor, Prince.” She began gathering up her supplies.
