Aldric paused at the doorframe, one hand braced there as if weighing whether to step inside. The tone in Leroy's voice wasn't anger; it was something colder, calculated.
"Master?" Aldric turned his head, eyes narrowing in faint amusement.
"You taught me everything I know," Leroy said, his posture loose but his gaze sharp. "Aren't you my master? Who else calls you "Master"?"
Aldric chuckled, the edge in the air thinning into mirth. "You're the prince I serve. And I don't like to be called master. I never allowed you to call me that." His mouth smiled, but his eyes were shadowed, as if the title carried an insult.
"Didn't say you allowed it," Leroy replied, chin resting on folded hands. "I asked if it was true."
"Truth," Aldric said, glancing toward the nearest chair, "is often a matter of timing. May I sit?"
Leroy pointed at the only empty chair in the room. Empty of people, at least. It was buried in books.
