Chapter Eighty – The Grand Ball
Slime smiled. "I think a pretty girl is attending the meeting so I wanted to look my best."
The Prince's smile turned to a scowl. "Huh?!"
Since when did Slime care about pretty girls? Was his puberty kicking in at eighteen years old? That's absurd. "You're not sick, are you?"
Slime touched his head for any signs of heat. "Am I?"
Asher nodded. "You must be. Why are you here though?"
"The meeting has started. The new Alphas have arrived. I thought you'd be eager since he's amongst them—"
Asher jumped from the seat. "Let's go!" he cheered hurrying out of the room. Slime followed him.
The maid of the palace kept their head bowed as Asher waltzed into his quarters. "Welcome, Prince Asher. What do you want to wear to the meeting today?"
"That one!"
