The door to the Royal Bedchamber clicked shut, sealing Elian in with the lion.
Cassian didn't waste time. He turned around, unbuttoning his cuffs with slow, deliberate movements. "The towel, Elian. Explain."
Elian stood by the fireplace, his heart doing a frantic tap dance against his ribs. He had hoped the Prince would forget. But apparently, Alphas had the memory of elephants when it came to their personal hygiene products.
'Think, Elian. Think like a gamer. What's the dialogue option that doesn't get you arrested for perversion?'
[Option A: Truth ("I sniff it to stay alive.")] -> Result: Execution.[Option B: Deflection ("Look! A bird!")] -> Result: Loss of Respect.[Option C: Bullshit ("It's a medical procedure.")] -> Result: High Risk / High Reward.
"It is... diagnostic, Your Highness," Elian said, clasping his hands behind his back to hide the tremors.
Cassian paused, one cuff undone. He raised an eyebrow. "Diagnostic?"
