Heinz walked through the grand halls of his palace, the familiar weight of silence settling around him. The only sound was the rhythmic echo of boots against polished marble, his own steps measured and deliberate. Behind him, Florian followed as usual, maintaining that small, polite distance. Heinz couldn't see the prince's face, but he didn't need to.
'He's upset.'
The thought was amusing. As usual.
Lately, Florian had been showing more and more of his true colors—his real thoughts slipping through that carefully composed mask. Heinz knew he should be irritated, possibly even insulted, but instead, he found himself intrigued. The change in the prince was a puzzle, and Heinz had always loved unraveling puzzles.
As they neared his office, he considered what excuse to give for summoning Florian. In truth, there wasn't much of a reason. He simply wanted to get him away from the tea party.
Just like the first time.
