The second prince of Weathbrow had been raised in luxury. Everything he wore was of the finest quality, every meal placed before him was prepared according to his liking, and every night he slept on a bed softer and more comfortable than most people could ever imagine. From the moment he woke each morning, maids were there to bathe and dress him, arrange his belongings, and attend to his every need. He had never been expected to lift a finger for himself.
But lying on the cold, uneven floor of a cave, with nothing beneath him but hard stone and tiny rocks pressing against his aching body, Henry was beginning to understand just how much he had taken for granted.
He stared blankly at the cave ceiling, his thoughts drifting back to the castle he had once considered his home. He wondered if he would ever return there, or if the life he had known was already over.
