"Tell me, Caelen," Theren said, voice cool, deliberate. "Do you remember how Lucavion made himself an enemy of His Highness?"
The question struck like cold water down the spine.
Caelen blinked. Once. Twice.
He almost replied too quickly, but something in Theren's stillness made him stop. Made him think.
"…He tried to humiliate His Highness," Caelen said at last, his voice quieter now. Less sure.
Theren's gaze didn't change. "How?"
Caelen stiffened. "He—he created a scene. At the banquet, he—he—"
"How did he do that?" Theren asked again, slower this time.
That repetition settled over Caelen like a net.
He closed his mouth.
And for a moment, he saw it again.
The banquet.
The music halting mid-measure. The flicker of heat and dissonance as Lucavion's presence twisted the attention of the room sideways—just enough to draw eyes, just enough to provoke a response.
Then: Lucien's intervention. Cold, flawless, immediate. As always.
