(SASHA)
The next morning, I rise early, sliding out of the bed as quietly as I can and limp down the hallway to get checked over by Darla. I take my medicine from her like a good little boy.
When I creep back into the bedroom, Tyler is still so deeply asleep that I don't want to wake him. He's had far less sleep than I've had recently, if an induced coma counts. I think it does. It will have to count, because I have a mission today. I can't crawl back into bed, despite how tempting Tyler looks lying there.
Gloria is in the yard, reading, legs crossed underneath her in the large basket chair and her brow knit in concentration. She looks up in surprise when I come out into the enclosed space.
"Good morning, Sasha."
"Good morning. What is it that you're—oh," I say, reading the cover. "The Last Prince. How are you finding it?"
