***

Saïda's POV:

My father was rather calm but I on the hand, couldn't help it but be worried about the Prince. It'd been hours since he'd left the apartment and we'd heard no news about him.

"Fa– Dad, it's eight. What if the Prince doesn't know this address."

"Asahd." he corrected.

"Asahd."

"He is twenty two. Asahd might be spoiled and whatsoever, but he is a smart boy. I know him well and he is the type to get himself out of any urgent situation. With or without money."

I was going to say something when there were aggressive knocks at the door. Definitely him.

"It's open." I said...