The Viscount felt his stomach churn as he watched Prince Aedric casually cut into his breakfast, taking bite after bite without even the slightest sign of discomfort. The magic should have taken effect by now.
The prince should have shown at least some reaction—fatigue, sluggish movements, a moment of hesitation. But instead, Aedric remained as composed and sharp as ever, his gaze almost mocking as he casually glanced in the Viscount's direction.
A cold sweat formed at the nape of the Viscount's neck. Had he miscalculated? No, that was impossible. He had performed the spell himself, ensuring that it was subtle yet potent. Even a well-trained knight would have faltered under its effects. So why was the prince completely unaffected?
Aedric set down his utensils and tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto the Viscount.