<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Solomon</span></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: palatino linotype;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>The Dark Prince</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Sol had polished off his plate and was wiping the damp remnants of blood from his lips when his instructor hailed him. Sanguine rings flicked over to the horseman as he lowered his napkin.<br/><br/>“You mean that I have yet to find someone worthy of killing me,” he returned.<br/><br/>He rose from his seat and stepped over the stool. “Nothing new ever happens, my lord. These worms will forever be beneath me...”<br/><br/>Glancing around at the freshmen and returnees, he boldly challenged, “And they’re welcome to take me anytime.”<br/><br/>The dark prince took his leave, wearing a black sleeveless shirt and faded, vintage jeans. He walked down the length of the table until he came across Ruby and his eyes seemed to challenge her as though his words had been solely meant for her. When he passed her completely, his attention returned to the path before him as he headed for his room. Practice; he needed to practice. If his technique ever became sloppy he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.</span>