"I haven't said anything that may have caused some suspicion, My Lady." The youth lowered his head and sighed. He was seated on the chaise, a black open box in his arms—precisely the box that held the three unfinished relics he had spent several days working on. The air sizzled with magic, deafening them from the outside.
Lady Calanthe lifted her gaze from the scattered notes on the dark table surface. The sight before her made her recall her strict words and the meticulous training she had given the youth. Sighing lightly, she approached him and covered his palm.
"My dear, I understand."
Moulin lifted his eyes—a pair of silver orbs - calm yet inwardly nervous.
