"Well, well… Look who decided to grace us with his presence." Melvin's voice was a drawl, loud enough for the guards at the door to hear, but pitched carefully to mask any real malice. "And here I thought you'd be lost in someone's chambers."
Levan did not blink. He ignored the jab, tracking Melvin as he slinked into the high-backed chair beside Neven. The Second Prince's smirk twisted, acknowledging the discomfort he was causing. He leaned back, draping one arm over the carved wood and tapping his other hand on the table like he was claiming territory.
Beside him, Neven's jaw tightened. He did not shift away, but his posture went rigid, his hands clasping neatly on the table. The air between the two older brothers grew heavy, thick with decades of unspoken grievances.
Melvin tilted his head, golden eyes glinting as he looked straight at the King. "I hope this isn't all ceremony, Father. I've been dying for some real entertainment."
