The man stood quietly awaiting the arrival of his master, the picture of dignity and lordly reserve. His dark blonde curls shining in the torchlight, his features appeared to be carved of pristine marble. Heavily lidded eyes of amber swept the room as he wondered when his host would arrive. While he waited Caesarius watched the members of court, taking note of the various cliques, and who appeared to be in, or out, of favor.
It was only time hewn experience that allowed the man to hide his surprise when he heard a voice speak so close that it might have been in his head.
“The young one has taken you into her confidence, yes?”
“She has sire. She suspects nothing.”
“What is it they call her? Sunshine? Sunny?”