"I can steal a pie! I am very stealthy!" Bartholomew begged, but it didn't work, of course.
"I'm not hungry," Seraphina stated, her voice suddenly losing its sleepy, cute cadence. The tone dropped, becoming flat, cold, and clinical.
She stood up from the rug, smoothing out the wrinkles in her cloud-patterned, pale blue silk nightgown. She didn't look like a tired toddler anymore. She looked like a general preparing a map for an impending siege.
"I am going to sleep," Seraphina announced, turning her back on the ghost and walking toward the massive four-poster bed.
Bartholomew blinked, floating after her. "To... sleep? But My Lady, His Grace, the Duke Kaelus, will undoubtedly be returning soon! He will ride back with the haste of a madman once the battle is concluded! Do you not wish to remain awake to greet him? To demand your rightful praise for saving his life? To bask in the glory of your triumph?"
