"What in the heavens were you thinking, Iryna?"
Gillian's voice cut through the quiet carriage, completely lacking the playful teasing tone he had been using to annoy Zarius just minutes earlier. He dropped his hand, fixing his sister with a sharp, unyielding gaze. "Stomping your heel and tearing up the Duke's private gardens within days of our arrival? Pulling your elemental magic on his sister? We are here to secure a fragile peace treaty, not to test the structural integrity of the Northern faction's patience."
Gillian slumped back against the plush, silk-embroidered cushions of the seat, letting out a long, deeply exhausted sigh that seemed to drain the playful charm right out of his posture. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his usual easygoing grin replaced by the stern, calculating expression of a seasoned crown prince who spent half his life preventing his family from starting accidental wars.
