"How was it?"
The voice caught Lucius just as he stepped out of Heinz—and Florian's—room.
He halted for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to see Lancelot leaning casually against the stone wall outside, arms crossed, posture deceptively relaxed.
Lucius didn't allow himself to falter. His expression remained even, unreadable, as he resumed his stride. "...Lancelot."
The knight pushed himself off the wall and fell into step behind him, his boots tapping lightly against the polished floor.
"Aren't you going to greet him?" Lucius asked, his tone casual, as if their encounter were nothing more than coincidence.
"I'll greet His Highness later at the ball," Lancelot replied easily. "He deserves some peace and quiet... some time with Drizelous and Cashew. I'll give my gift then. For now, tell me—how was it? He must have been happy to know his family is coming."
Lucius's steps slowed, just slightly. "He was. But…" He trailed off.
"But?"
'Something was off.'
