"So offensive!" The nobleman smirked but truly didn't seem offended, his eyes narrowing as he gestured toward the boy's hair. "Sigaros, what happened to your hair? It's dark and curly now?"
The young sorcerer ran a hand through his hair, and with a subtle shift, it transformed, his strands becoming pure white, sleek, and straight.
"Chancellor Oka," he said coolly, his voice flat, "instead of worrying about my appearance, tell me, what do you have for me?"
The nobleman leaned back, his grin widening into something sly and unsettling. "I sent the message to Phoria, not you," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.
The sorcerer snorted and rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "She's busy. Your darling Victor is causing enough trouble as it is. Instead of taking that traitor's head, he slashed her throat in front of a healer half-blood. His name's Agaraith, the bastard son of the Fae King."
