"What's wrong?"
The moment Lucian entered the room, he spotted me sitting on the floor instantly, like his eyes were trained to search for disasters involving me.
Panic flickered across his face.
"Seraphina—" he rushed forward, crouching in front of me, "is something wrong? Are you hurt?"
His gaze swept over me, sharp and frantic, as if expecting to find blood or another fruit knife in my hand.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, pushing myself up before he could start checking my pulse or something.
But his hands hovered at my waist anyway, steadying me.
"What happened?" he asked, voice low with worry. "Why were you on the floor?"
I looked away, biting my lip.
If I told him I was eavesdropping, I would rather die again.
"I just slipped," I said.
Even I didn't believe myself.
"Slipped?"
Lucian's expression tightened with worry. He immediately looked down at the floor, sweeping his feet gently over the tiles as if checking for water, ice, anything.
