Voren looked genuinely thrown. Like the sight of her like this was a variable he hadn't accounted for and didn't know what to do with. It almost would've been funny, Seraphine thought distantly, if she wasn't so tired.
She'd had plenty of practice at this. Smiling when things were not fine. Keeping her voice even. Giving people exactly the version of herself they were comfortable with. She'd gotten so good at it that sometimes she forgot she was doing it at all. Apparently, she'd slipped.
"Nothing." Her free hand moved to his, trying to work his fingers loose from her arm. "Can you let go?"
Her eyes slid sideways, scanning without meaning to — the staircase door, halfway down the hall on the left. Exit signs always glowed red like small promises.
Voren caught it. His grip didn't tighten, but it didn't release either. He'd followed her gaze and understood exactly what it meant. If he let go, she was gone.
"Not until you tell me why you're crying."
