Elias rose smoothly to his feet, brushing a hand over his knee as though nothing remarkable had just occurred.
The sitting room felt warmer now. Quieter. The lanternlight seemed softer, as if it, too, had settled.
He glanced down at me, a faint curve to his mouth. "I did promise to tell you about my powers. After someone got a little too curious."
I did not respond.
I simply watched him.
He chuckled under his breath. "I could feel your eyes on me. Very sharp ones."
So he felt his mana being probed but thought it was ne staring at him.
[That's how it works host.]
I crossed my arms, dignity barely intact. "You were glowing."
"A fair excuse," Elias admitted.
He moved to the window, resting one hand against the frame, gaze drifting outward into the night. For a moment, he looked every bit the Crown Prince—composed, distant, untouchable.
Then his voice softened.
"As you know," he began, "my father does not have magic."
I nodded.
