The laughter between them lingered in the air, the warmth of mirth softening the vastness of the hall. For a fleeting moment, Lissa felt almost lighthearted, as though the grandeur of the palace and the stares of nobles did not exist. But then, without warning, the glimmer in Thorian's dark eyes shifted. His smile faded, his voice dropped lower, steadier, carrying a weight that stilled the very air around them.
"My lady," he began, his words measured, "'tis pleasant to jest, aye, but there are matters most grave that plague this kingdom."
Lissa blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. Hold up, why is he going all Batman-mode now? A second ago, we were joking about sword-babies, and now he looks like he's about to narrate a tragedy.
She straightened, adopting a more dignified posture to mask her surprise. "Pray, what dost thou mean, my lord?"
