Lucian's gaze dropped to the ground, his act flawless. "It was slipped into one of my books. I don't know how long it's been there. I only found it today. And…" He let his voice trail, deliberately shaky. "I thought—you deserved to know."
Alistair's grip crumpled the letter slightly. His eyes burned into Lucian, searching, testing. "Why bring it to me? Why not my brother? Or the King?"
Lucian swallowed, lifting his gaze with quiet desperation. "Because I don't trust them." His voice lowered, urgent. "The King is ill, too weak for such concerns. And Prince Alaric…" He hesitated, shaking his head. "He looks at me and sees nothing but a nuisance. You—" His lips curved faintly. "You at least don't pretend. You say what you mean. I can believe in that."
Alistair stared at him, suspicious but intrigued. His sword tapped lightly against his boot, his impatience barely restrained. "And what do you expect me to do about it? Hold your hand until the phantom comes knocking?"
