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38

"I don't have time for parties," I said, making an ugly face.

Vraxlon gestured with his shoulders.

"Your prince does not seem so worried about what your majesty really wants, only about the rare chance he has to expose to our world how intimate he is.”

I frowned.

"Why are you talking like that?”

Vraxlon pretended to be surprised.

"In what way, Your Majesty?”

"With irony, smart guy. Why are you so ironic and funny now?”

Vraxlon opened a little smile that left him with a very egocentric pose, even inside all that steel of his war armor.

"Parties and banquets always make me excited, Your Majesty. I apologize if my lack of seriousness bothers you in this way.”

Even with the careful words, he sketched a predatory singing smile. Maybe he was acting that way for the quick exchange of glances we had on the sarcophagus, knowing that Octavius could make an effort to give me the world from then on, and he would never receive an ounce of the gratitude I felt for Vraxlon, for what he had done for
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