Selienne's eyes narrowed—sharply, precisely.
The temperature in the room didn't fall, but it felt like it did. Her once smooth poise held a new texture now—tension curled into the corners of her stillness, like the press of a blade resting just shy of skin.
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't lash out.
But the absence of warmth was unmistakable.
Her gaze—no longer the inviting weight of royalty—became the cold, unyielding stare of someone who had just been denied. And didn't appreciate it.
"You're serious?" she asked flatly, with a disbelief that wasn't feigned.
Lucavion gave her his most maddening, most maddeningly him smile.
"Terribly," he said, folding one arm across his chest, the other gesturing lazily outward. "Unless, of course, I'm dreaming all of this, in which case I'd rather wake up before taxes are involved."
He winked.
The kind of wink that could unravel tempers and charm thieves in equal measure.
Selienne stood.
