"A short chapter in the long run… That's disappointing to hear."
A pause, deliberate and faintly wounded.
"I'm quite sad now. Is this what you think of me?"
Elara didn't need to turn.
She knew that voice.
Knew the cadence.
Knew the tone he used when he pretended to pout—half teasing, half probing, entirely disarming.
Lucavion.
Of course.
Of course he would appear the moment his name lingered too long in the air. The timing was almost supernatural—no, not supernatural. Predictable. Typical. Exactly the sort of entrance he favored: effortless, intrusive, and designed to tip the balance of a conversation before anyone could regain their footing.
'Speak of the devil,' Elara thought dryly, her pulse tightening into a single, sharp beat.
'And here he is.'
