"I came to speak with Marcus," he said, voice calm.
Evelisse looked between them. "I should go."
Marcus shook his head. "You don't have to—"
But she was already moving, brushing past Lucien with a polite bow. "I'll be in the west courtyard if anyone needs me."
Lucien waited until her footsteps faded.
Then he stepped fully into the greenhouse.
"Is there something you'd like to share with your big bro?" he asked.
Marcus's shoulders tensed.
The soft scent of lilies filled the air, thick with humidity. The glass panes of the greenhouse reflected golden shafts of morning light, warming the tiled floor. Birds chirped faintly outside, but inside, the silence buzzed with tension.
Lucien strolled forward, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. "You've been quiet lately. Ever since that little encounter during the festival of the stars."
Marcus bent slightly over a row of potted asters. "I'm always quiet."
