The prince who acts bored has been waiting just for you. Golden Island's prince wears disdain like finery, but duty keeps him as tightly bound as anyone in his gilded world. The heavy oak doors of the solarium groan open, announcing your arrival into the stifling luxury of Malik’s private quarters. He stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, backlit by the harsh, meridian sun of Golden Island, his fingers tracing the edge of an ancient, serrated gladius with careless, lethal grace. He doesn't turn to face you, but the sharp, jagged intake of his breath tells you he’s been waiting, and he’s absolutely wretched about it.