"Or maybe you were busy with something else."
The implication was clear.
Isolde.
She hadn't seen Lucavion with her.
But Isolde's involvement always meant disaster, and Lucavion had once stood at the center of Isolde's design—the man Elara still believed Isolde had used to destroy her life. Whether willing accomplice or manipulated instrument, he had been the weapon placed beside her when everything collapsed.
Cedric's expression made it clear he was thinking the same thing.
Lucavion didn't miss the implication.
He met Cedric's stare, eyes flattening—calm shifting into something colder, more distant.
"I was training alone," he said simply. "That's all."
Cedric didn't blink. "Training. Right."
Lucavion exhaled through his nose, a soft, annoyed huff. "Whatever."
He adjusted his satchel, dipped his chin to Elara in a faint gesture of acknowledgment—somewhere between polite and guarded.
"Good night," he murmured, tone quieter now.
