Priscilla tilted her head slightly as she studied Wilhelm’s face. She found no trace of a smile, no flicker of emotion. It was as though he had been carved from stone, shaped by a master sculptor who had struck with a hammer and chisel to create a flawless masterpiece.
“Go on, speak your mind. I promise I won’t tell His Majesty.”
“I do not trust you, Your Highness.”
Priscilla had anticipated that he would not be easily fooled, and indeed, Wilhelm saw through her ploy immediately. She couldn’t help but try again, her words sharp as she saw him return his attention to his book.
“Why do you wear those glasses? You look much better without them.”
“A bomb exploded near me on the battlefield, and since then, the letters appear a bit blurry.”
Priscilla’s expression stiffened slightly. She often forgot that he was a soldier freshly returned from war. She blinked a few times, swallowing dryly before speaking again.
“Well, you do not look so bad wearing them.”
“Thank you.”
