Prince Alexander stood in front of the large drapes, the just rising sun darting off the arrowhead that was between his fingers.
He turned to the bed. Lady Sophia was still fast asleep, her hair falling in front of her eyes, her breaths even and almost soundless. His eyes darkened a little as he turned back to the arrowhead.
His mark was on it, and it made him a little nervous. Whoever this person was, man or woman knew exactly what they were doing. It could mean that the woman who was dead was either just unfortunate and used as a scape goat, or the standing face of betrayal from someone she had helped.
He would like to go with the second, however. He did not believe very much in coincidences. Especially if those coincidences have an easy explanation out. He knew just how easy it is to
