A few minutes after Lucien and Scarlet arrived...
Lucien felt something pricking the back of his neck. It wasn't a dagger, a spell, or a holy bullet.
It was worse.
Mayla's gaze.
The woman examined him as if she were looking at a rare specimen fresh out of a laboratory.
"It really is Lord Lucien... where did that stupid air go?" she muttered, but at a volume that could only be described as a whispered shout. Obviously, he heard her perfectly.
"This servant..." he thought, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
In the blink of an eye, Lucien disappeared from his spot and appeared in front of Mayla.
Poke!
He tapped her on the forehead.
"Ouch!" Mayla brought both hands to her forehead as if he had embedded a precious stone there. "Lord Lucien! Are you trying to ruin this servant's perfect face? It's national heritage!" she protested, miraculously returning immediately to her impeccable posture as a perfect servant.
