"What do you wish to talk about?" Heinz asked at last, his tone composed—polite, even—but there was an edge beneath the calm.
He had no reason to be openly hostile toward Asher. Not yet.Or maybe… he couldn't bring himself to be.
There was something about the man—the same sharpness in his eyes, the same bone structure—that made it impossible for Heinz to fully detach. Asher was older, colder, more refined in his manner, but every movement, every quiet flicker of irritation behind his mask reminded Heinz of him.
Of Florian.
And that alone was enough to keep Heinz's suspicions caged.
"I'm sure you already know, Your Majesty," Asher began, his tone polished, every word dipped in diplomacy. "You are, after all, a very intelligent man."
Heinz let out a slow exhale, a weary sigh that misted faintly in the cool air of the chamber. He turned away, walking toward the tall window behind his desk. Pale light spilled in, gilding the edge of his silhouette in gold.
