A sharp bolt of panic tore through the psychic scents in the room, as the door opened. Then Jaenelle was looking up at the door, poking something under her pillow as discreetly as she could.
"Prince," she said, using the title as she had before, to throw Protocol up as a wall between them. A wall guarding the painful memories of her past, and to guard the freedom he would now be cherishing, free from the lifetime of slavery and service.