The atmosphere in prince Izan's chambers was anything but quiet. Dillion and Martin, were seated on the edge of a luxurious chaise, grinning from ear to ear as they watched their prince pace the room.
Izan, still dressed in his simple robe, was clearly pretending to ignore them, though his clenched jaw and exaggerated sighs suggested otherwise.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" Dillion teased, his sharp eyes catching the faint dark cycle under Izan's usually bright gaze.
"I slept perfectly fine," Izan replied curtly, though his voice betrayed a touch of irritation.
"Right," Martin snorted, folding his arms. "And that's why you've been pacing since sunrise, looking like a lovesick teenager."
Izan stopped mid-stride and turned to glare at his guards. "I'm not pacing."
"No, of course not," Dillion said, smirking. "You were just strategically wearing down the floorboards."
Izan shot him a look but didn't respond, which only fueled their teasing.
