The heavy doors to the royal chamber creaked open, and Crown Prince Mikalius groaned theatrically from his seat, rubbing his temples.
He was slumped sideways on his throne-like chair, a silk cloth draped lazily over his eyes as if he were shielding himself from light that wasn't even there.
"Oh, gods above, why did I drink so much last night?"
He muttered.
Grand Duchess Amana arched a brow at the pitiful display.
"Because you're an idiot, that's why."
Mikalius peeked out from beneath the cloth and grinned.
"And here I thought you'd offer some cousinly sympathy. Alas, it seems even my own blood has turned against me."
"If your blood is as saturated with wine as your brain, then yes. Honestly, if you were just a little more careful about what you put in your mouth, you wouldn't be suffering now."
She snapped.
Still reclined, the prince waved a dismissive hand in her direction.
"Bah, I'm immune to poison. That includes regrets."
"You're not immune to headaches."
