"Kael… was that wholesome for you?" Zora asked, her tone caught between amusement and suspicion.
Prince Kael turned his head, the moonlight carving a sly curve across his lips. That familiar wicked smile—half charm, half trouble—unfurled effortlessly.
"For me?" he echoed, voice rich with mischief. "Naturally. Should I not clean up the trash that dares block my lady's path?"
Zora snorted softly. "More like you just wanted an excuse to vent."
Yet as she rolled her eyes, a smile crept into the corner of her mouth. Beneath the teasing, she understood exactly what he had done—and why.
A crouching dragon never curls in a shallow pond forever.
Prince Kael had waited. He had endured. But tonight, the veil slipped.
She saw ambition flicker behind his gaze—quiet, sharp, inevitable.
The two left the hall together, laughter trailing behind them like drifting smoke. Neither spared another thought for Minister Henry. People like him were storms that howled loudly but died quickly.
