The afternoon heat in the Grand Salon had settled into a heavy, stagnant gloom, but the four northerners sitting near the arched windows weren't paying much attention to the weather.
Elios slouched back in his chair, dangling a glass of chilled fruit wine between two fingers while his boot tapped a erratic rhythm against the polished floor. Beside him, Flio sat upright, adjusting his cuffs for what had to be the fifth time in ten minutes.
Reiner and Ezek occupied the couch opposite them, looking like two statues carved from northern granite, silent, watchful, and deeply out of place amid the lavish furniture and delicate silk drapes.
"So," Elios drawled, breaking the silence and taking a slow sip. "How long does it usually take for a princess to finish a casual chat?"
Flio didn't look up from his wrists. "As long as she deems necessary. Keep your voice down."
