"That's it?"
Heinz sat on the edge of his massive bed, his silhouette softened by the warm lamplight. He had clearly just bathed—his dark hair damp, pushed back from his face. The scent of lavender soap still lingered in the air.
Though he had changed into more comfortable clothes, they were still unmistakably regal—deep wine-colored robes trimmed in gold. The sort of loungewear only a king would casually sleep in.
What unsettled Florian most wasn't Heinz's attire—it was his demeanor.
There was no trace of the rage from earlier. No shattered glass humming with lingering magic, no sharp words, no dangerous sparks in his crimson eyes. Heinz was calm again. Controlled. His usual indifferent self.
Florian hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes... that's it. I spoke with Lucius to verify, and he said the same. She wasn't lying. Someone's threatening her. She hasn't betrayed you."
Heinz hummed, nonchalantly. "Then you were right to postpone her punishment."
