In the quiet garden beside the palace, Mathien pulled Hana away from the crowd without saying much. His steps were quick, urgent. Once they reached the tall bushes that shielded them from the guards' and servants' view, Mathien abruptly turned, his gaze sharp on her.
"Your arm," he said curtly. "Show me."
Hana obeyed. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing the part that had been splashed with tea earlier.
Mathien immediately took her arm, examining it closely. No wound. No redness. Only pale, clean skin, damp from the tea.
"It should've been hot," he muttered. "Why didn't you react?"
Hana shrugged. "Just normal heat. It didn't spill that much. I'm fine."
Mathien studied her face for a long moment. Something didn't sit right with him, though he couldn't explain why. And he didn't want to sound excessive.
"If you're fine, then why am I still worried?" he murmured under his breath, almost to himself.
Hana only gave a faint smile and lowered her head.
