"Yes, you. Any problem, Consort Finn?" Orion asked, raising a brow as a smirk played on his lips.
I'm not your fucking servant, dude! Finn screamed inwardly. You needed help, yet you sent all your actual helpers away, you dickhead!
But none of those words made it past his lips.
Instead, Finn swallowed hard, forcing them down his throat the moment he remembered the messenger was still standing there, watching everything.
His jaw tightened.
"Aren't you going to leave?" Finn finally asked, his gaze shifting sharply toward the messenger.
"Oh… I thought you might need some supervision," the messenger replied immediately, bowing deeply. "You haven't assisted His Majesty in dressing before, so I assumed you might require guidance."
Finn forced a tight smile, though irritation was already bubbling beneath the surface. "I don't need any supervision. You can leave now… please."
