Arik was indeed in the Sun Room.
Of course he was.
And he was dressed like the crown prince he was, which meant Wrohan's vulgar little room had finally met someone capable of making it feel underdressed. White and gold formal tailoring, not overworked, not desperate, just expensive enough to make the palace around him appear as if it had been trying too hard for years. The fabric sat clean over his shoulders. The rings on his hands caught the light with aristocratic laziness. His black hair was brushed back. His golden eyes were steady and bright in the flood of morning sun.
He stood near the long windows as if light had been arranged for him personally and everyone else were simply making do.
At his sides stood Mezos and Noah.
Both were properly composed.
Both were also looking at Liam with expressions that immediately made him suspicious.
