Lucavion stepped into his room, shutting the door with an ease that made it seem like he hadn't just thoroughly amused himself at Caius's expense. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly as he took in the space—minimalist, practical, devoid of any real personality. Exactly the kind of place he expected.
Not that it mattered.
His sharp gaze flicked upward toward the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. He hadn't needed to look. He'd already known she was there.
A faint rustling, the sound of something shifting weightlessly against the wood, and then—
[You're cruel,] Vitaliara murmured, her voice slipping into the air like a whisper of wind.
Lucavion smirked. "What, for putting him in his rightful place?"
