"There was no time for formalities," Seraphina declared, sweeping toward the bed. "I heard you were awake. You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words."
Casian sighed inwardly but kept his tone neutral. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm recovering well."
Her eyes flickered to Lyra, lingering longer than necessary. "Clearly," she muttered, her voice clipped.
Lyra straightened, her hands folding neatly in her lap, saying nothing—but her silence wasn't weakness. It was restraint. Dignified, composed.
"I've summoned the healers and instructed the kitchen to prepare a restorative broth. You need to regain your strength before we discuss anything further." Seraphina's tone left no room for argument.
Casian's patience thinned. "I already said I'm fine. And I don't need a room full of people poking at me right now."
