Black hair fell into the sink. A razor glided along a sharp chin.
Prince Basileus rubbed his face with a warm wet towel, cleaning off any stray hairs from his clean-shaven face. When he pulled it away from his face, he stared into a mirror for the first time in over a year.
He looked older, he thought.
His hair was longer than he normally wore it, but it was a suitable change. His jaw was sharper and his expression seemed darker than it was in years past. He had definitely grown a few inches while he was out on that deserted planet.
He looked like his father.
The prince had been laying low for a few days, but it was finally time for him to see the troops he abandoned so long ago.
Theron had gone to the space station that orbited around the volatile planet where most of his men were stationed and the prince remained in the ship until he was told it was a good time to announce his presence.
