[Now you have done it. Was that really worth it?]
Vitaliara's voice echoed in his mind. Soft. Steady. Disappointed.
Lucavion didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just kept sipping.
'Yep. Didn't you see the look on his face?'
He smirked behind the rim of the glass.
[Lucavion.]
There was that slight edge in her tone. Not anger. Concern, tempered by something older. Wearier.
[I did. And it was not good. He was ready to kill you.]
Lucavion exhaled slowly through his nose. Not annoyed. Just… humored.
'He always was,' he thought, setting the glass down gently on the edge of the stone. 'He just never had a reason until now.'
[That is not clever.]
'I'm not trying to be clever.'
[You're provoking him.]
'I'm provoking the idea of him. There's a difference.'
[He doesn't see that difference.]
Lucavion's gaze drifted back toward the center of the hall. Toward Lucien. Still stiff. Still standing. Still surrounded by silence thicker than any courtly applause.
'He does now.'
