"You're late," the prince said, his voice steady and clipped, eyes locked on them the moment they entered the chamber.
Avin stopped mid-step, meeting the royal's gaze.
"You going to war?" he asked flatly, taking in the absurd sight before him.
The prince was in full armor.Not the half-polished ceremonial kind nobles wore to look intimidating, but the real thing — heavy, gold-plated, joint-locked battle gear that clanked when he moved. His chestplate caught the light, his pauldrons were etched with intricate filigree, and his boots looked like they could crush stone.
He was tightening the last glove on his left hand while Theo stood behind him, looping leather straps and pulling the chestplate snug.
"I am getting used to it," the prince replied calmly, flexing his fingers once Theo fastened the last buckle.
