The word hung in the cold air.
Your majesty.
Kaelen blinked and waited for the punchline. For Lysander to straighten up and laugh like usual. For that familiar crooked grin to split his face. For him to say something like, "The look on your face," or "You should have seen yourself."
None of that came.
Lysander stayed bowed. His spine curved like a drawn bow. His dark hair fell forward, hiding his eyes. The wind pulled at his cloak, but he didn't move.
"Stop," Kaelen said. His voice came out rough. Sleep still clung to his throat. "Stop that. What are you doing?"
Lysander looked up.
His face was wrong.
Not deformed, it was lysander's face but it also wasn't. Kaelen couldn't explain. The calm from before had cracked. Underneath it sat something else, worry, real worry. The kind that pulled at the corners of his mouth and tightened the skin around his eyes.
"Your majesty," Lysander said again. Slower this time. "Are you alright?"
