When Lucian reached the official tent, he found Alistair and Sebathine standing near the entrance, expressions sharp with suspicion. Both froze for a beat, staring at him and the weight in his arms.
"What… what are you doing with him?" Alistair demanded, eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and anger. "Are you trying to—"
"—harm him?" Sebathine finished, narrowing his eyes.
Lucian laughed, a low, soft sound that carried amusement and disbelief. "Harm him?" he repeated, shaking his head. "If I wanted to harm him, do you think I would have carried this drunken man back here, careful enough not to bruise him? Really?" He straightened, setting Alaric down gently. "Keep him in check whenever he indulges in this… reckless drinking, or he'll wander about the camp doing all sorts of nonsense, saying things he will later regret."
