"Same reason you didn't, and the same reason why you were staying here by yourself"
Elara froze—not entirely, not visibly, but enough.
Because that answer was too fast. Too certain. And far too accurate.
Her gaze narrowed. "You don't know my reason."
He shrugged again. A maddening, lazy sort of confidence. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just a shared affliction. Of people who'd rather be anywhere else than where they're meant to be."
There was no bite in his words, but there was something quieter. Something that struck her not like a blade—but like a bell rung at just the right frequency to unsettle the ribs.
Lucavion's eyes softened then—barely perceptible, but enough to shift the air between them.
"And besides," he added, leaning casually against the railing, "rooms are boxes. Expectations. A place people assume you are. Sometimes it's better to not be found where you're expected."
