"That was quite the fiasco, Your Majesty. Your Highness," a warm, lilting voice remarked.
'Oh.'
Florian turned toward the source and was momentarily surprised. He hadn't expected the Duke of Frostblade to be so… young.
Or rather, younger than most of the other dukes he had met. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties at most, with carefully styled light-brown hair and vivid purple eyes—an unusual but striking combination that made Florian pause.
'His eyes… they kind of remind me of Cashew's.'
There was something in the way the Duke carried himself—refined, yet approachable—that instantly set him apart. As Florian stood there, briefly lost in that observation, a quiet ache tugged at his chest.
'I wonder how Cashew is doing…' He hadn't seen the boy all day. His personal servant had been occupied, helping the palace staff prepare food and organize the guest accommodations. 'He must be so busy.'
