“I have heard that you are a little rascal.” I looked up at the unknown, towering man. He had shoulders almost as broad as my father’s. He wore an ill-fitted shirt with dark pants with short and strangely styled hair.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Oh-ho, a feisty little man!” Curiosity trumped my offence at the insult of being called little as with a child.
It did not surprise me that he knew of me. I considered myself quite popular. A lot of men knew my names. The devil prince, they called me. The spare heir. Mikhail pendragon, he has evil in his smile, they said. My nanny said I smiled too wide, it unsettled the stomach of many men, seeing a child smile in a manner as a man who knew all the secrets of the world.
He looked ordinary enough and with little character in appearance save
