Adeline woke up to the first Sundays that brought dawn and the sound of Lucan's voice outside her tent. She sat up, her brows furrowed as she waited for a moment, anticipating his entrance.
After what felt like a week, he still had not made his way to her tent even though his voice sounded close enough. She could not make out what he was saying and to whom, and to satisfy her curiosity, she immediately stood up and slowly made her way out.
Lucan was, indeed, outside her tent, a little distance away, his hand resting on the sword that was now embedded in the ground, his hair falling back to the nape of his neck.
"Your Majesty?"
He stopped, and for a long minute, he did not turn to her. Lucan watched Angel, whom he had been talking to, his eyes rather... blank. For some strange reason, he could……
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