“Lord Vorkosigan? Lord Vorkosigan?” the man murmured. Miles peered through slitted eyes, feeling thick with sleep, as though moving under water. What hour—and why was the idiot miscalling him by his father’s title? New, was he? No . . . Cold consciousness washed over him, and his stomach knotted, as the full significance of the man’s words penetrated. He sat up, head swimming, heart sinking. “What?”
