Prince Harry still wiped his face off the sticky flour. He was sure if anyone walked in, he would be the laughingstock of the whole Lancaster family. He was sitting up on the bed, but his head was pounding so loudly that he could not even detect who had poured the flour, why he had been poured flour, and, worse, what really happens in the Lancaster family.
"It's your fault!" The voice sounded a second time, far, far away in the room. There seemed to be two people, but he still had not raised his eyes to look. If it were not for the flour, he would have just adjusted himself and scooted back in bed. He was sure he would have dark circles by evening from this hasty wake.
