"W-What?"
The porcelain cup in the Baroness's hand rattled against the saucer, narrowly avoiding a spill. Her face, usually the picture of serene grace, drained of color.
"L-Lumin...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "He was involved?"
Nusayel reacted instantly. He placed his large, warm hand over hers, stilling the trembling. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, though his own eyes had narrowed into sharp slits.
He turned his gaze back to the Chieftain, his demeanor shifting from a welcoming host to a serious lord.
"You know Mr. Lumin?"
"Mm."
Risha nodded slowly.
"He... was a guest of our tribe."
At the mention of the name, Nusayel didn't miss the reaction from the silent figure beside the Chieftain.
