"My father—the emperor—wants you dead."
Complete silence lingered as the words escaped the Prince's mouth.
The prince leaned back on the sofa, a table in between them, while Azariah's hand, hidden beneath, rubbed his bracelet.
Azariah stared at him for a while, blinking in confusion.
The guards standing behind the prince subtly took out their weapons, prepared in case things gets heated.
"Pardon, the fuck did you just say?" Azariah finally questioned, eyes narrowing, his breath misting in the cold air.
It was spring in this part of the continent, but due to the proximity of the Malycia Mountains to the empire, winter always clung to this area.
"Let me introduce myself first." The prince smiled, nodding at Azariah's bewildered state. "My name is Asgrim Biarni Mizraim, the youngest son of the emperor—."
"No, fuck that." Azariah interjected, eyes fixed on him. "What did you say about me being dead?"
