My feet faltered when I actually laid eyes on him. He didn't look like I expected. I imagined him lying sick and pale, wilting away in a bed. But he didn't. He actually looked better than he did the last time I saw him. He was sitting by the window in a big chair looking out. He had a book open on his lap while he sipped from a clear glass filled with vibrant red blood in it. One of his carers came out of a room behind him and faltered in her steps when she saw me there.
" Prince, I, erm, hello, it's nice to see you in here" she stammered. She looked between me and my father. But he had yet to look at me. " You can leave us, Clarissa," he said, his voice sounded strong. I looked at him in confusion. He wasn't a ghost at all. She looked at him , and then back to me and smiled tightly. "
