The moment I stepped onto the balcony, I saw him—Luca—bathed in evening's quiet glow, his gaze far away, lost in thoughts heavier than his young frame should bear.
He didn't notice me at first.
"What are you thinking so hard of?" I asked gently, stepping forward.
He startled, eyes wide, and leapt to his feet with that awkward, respectful clumsiness he always showed around me. I never asked for that level of formality, but he offered it anyway—perhaps out of habit. Or maybe reverence. I'm not sure which I deserve more.
"Greetings, Master. How are you?"
A smile tugged at my lips beneath the veil. I stepped into the room, careful, composed. "I should be the one asking that," I replied. "How are you, after that battle?"
He lied.
Just a little.
"I'm fine, Master. What could possibly happen to me?"
