"What a truly heartfelt moment between father and daughter."
I sat comfortably on the couch, my legs crossed in a relaxed posture. A beautiful, golden-amber flame flickered to life in the palm of my raised hand, casting long, dancing shadows across the opulent furnishings of the dim living place.
Arges stood frozen at the base of the stairs, fixing me with a slightly hardened, protective gaze.
"Your Majesty, if you have come for Morgana—"
"I am not here for Morgana," I cut him off smoothly.
He blinked, clearly taken aback.
"Nor have I come to offer an apology. But rest assured, I have not come here merely to rub salt into the fresh wounds I inflicted upon her today, either," I added.
"Then..."
"Take a seat, Arges," I said, gesturing toward the empty couch directly across from me.
"Your Majesty." He offered a stiff nod, bowing his head respectfully before stepping forward.
