“Keep smiling at everyone,” the Prince murmured. “I know looking pleasant is a terrible chore for you, but you must make a greater effort. To be honest, you look rather ill.” “I feel rather ill,” I whispered back. “Nerves.” He nodded so companionably that I wanted to smack him and remind him that we were not friends. “I sometimes have them before a battle.” “You mean you get nervous before you go out to slaughter people and steal their land?” I said sweetly. “You poor darling.”
