'I should've known better.'
Her thoughts spun, brittle and burning, each one a sharper retort she should've thrown at him. Should've, but didn't.
Because it wasn't worth it. Because she'd already lived through this before.
Lucavion didn't owe her anything?
Fine.
Then she'd stop expecting anything at all.
But then—
Just as her foot touched the edge of the path—
"…That cup."
Her steps halted.
The words weren't loud. But they struck like a whisper through frost.
Elara froze.
Slowly—so slowly—she turned her head.
Lucavion was still standing there, backlit by the pale haze of the coming dawn. No fire now. No smirk. Just eyes.
Watching her.
Not smug.
Not cruel.
Just… watching.
She said nothing.
He lifted his chin, nodding once—not at her, but at what she still held loosely in one hand.
"That cup," he said again. "It was because of that."
The cold slipped down her spine like a drop of water.
