Auron's smirk twisted. "Oh, it's beyond that, my dear Prince Consort. You stole something that was never yours to begin with. A foreigner—a nameless insect—dared to claim what I had cultivated." His voice turned eerily soft. "Do you know what that feels like? To watch something you love slip into the hands of someone unworthy?"
Mikhailis's chest tightened at the vehemence pouring off Auron's every word. The malice in his voice was palpable, like a blade pressed to the skin. It reminded Mikhailis of every twisted villain from the dramas he used to watch, except this threat was real, standing right here, mist curling around his hands. Mikhailis blinked, trying to process the sheer level of unhinged obsession radiating from Auron. He forced himself to adopt that casual, half-teasing tone he liked to wield when cornered by mania.
"I mean, sure," Mikhailis said, "but usually, I just get over it like a normal person. You might consider giving it a whirl."
