Elizabeth scowled as the door to the cell --<em>if it could be called that</em>-- opened. Her eyes quickly found those of the Prince's, and she composed herself, back to her calm self. She listened intently, not uttering a word in between the future king's questions, knowing that he would continue questioning her. She found herself sighing, eyes moving to the side to look at the wall as she spoke.<br/><br/>"Prince Alexander, future king of Castillion," she started, her voice a smooth, almost velvet-like texture. "I come as a scholar, not a princess -- evidently, since I have no guards with me. By the time the news of your father's sickness came to my ears, I was already here." She shook her head, a moment of sadness for the news. She hadn't wished anything ill upon Castillion, hell, on any kingdom for that matter. "I sincerely pray that your father will survive," she said solemnly, tears pricking her eyes -- she was an emotional person. It was her weakness to see others suffer in such a way.