I shoot a subtle, sideways glance at my husband. Lucian's expression hasn't changed at all, but I can see the microscopic tightening of his jaw. He knows exactly what Lorien is doing.
Right. The guy is 512 years old, I remind myself, swallowing hard. 'The One Who Holds the Balance.' His sensory abilities must be completely off the charts. He isn't just looking at Lucian's physical body; he is looking directly at the terrifying abyss of magic contained inside him.
"You are highly perceptive, Lord Lorien," Lucian replies smoothly, his voice dropping into a low, freezing hum that vibrates with unspoken authority. "Many look, but very few truly see."
Lorien simply smiles again, dipping his head. "Wisdom comes with age, Your Highness. And survival comes from knowing exactly how deep the ocean is before one steps into the water."
Lucian gives the ancient Elf a slow, acknowledging nod.
