"So? What is the meaning of this?"
Heinz's voice cut through the air like steel drawn from its sheath. He stood rigid, crimson eyes narrowing as they bore into Lysander and Delilah.
Delilah looked pale, her usual composure faltering as her hands twisted at her skirts.
Lysander, on the other hand, kept his head bowed low, shame etched into every line of his posture, as though he were a child caught hiding some unforgivable secret.
"Y-Your Majesty…" Lysander stammered, his voice unsteady. "Please understand—I… I don't know where to start. It's about… Prince Florian."
Heinz's eyebrow twitched at the name, irritation sparking instantly.
His patience was already worn thin tonight, and this was not the subject he wanted to be teased with. He exhaled slowly, fixing his gaze on Delilah instead.
"If he has hurt himself again merely to draw my attention," Heinz said, his tone edged with ice, "I already told you—"
