Mikhailis stepped into his private chamber, rolling his shoulders as the lingering warmth of the training grounds still clung to his skin. His muscles tingled with that familiar, pleasant ache, a reminder that he was still far from the soft, sheltered image some nobles assumed of him. As he reached for a fresh tunic hanging neatly by the wardrobe, his glasses flickered with a soft blue glow.
Rodion's voice was a perfect blend of dry sarcasm and that polished, formal tone that Mikhailis knew so well. The prince couldn't help but smile, a chuckle slipping out as he pulled the shirt over his head. "Shut up, Rodion. You know the situation better than most."
