The sound of hurried footsteps in the hall broke my concentration. Curious, I stepped outside our room, only to freeze at the sight of Lucian. He was rushing into the sitting area, carrying Talia—my younger sister—in his arms like she was made of glass.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice tighter than I intended.
Lucian glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable before his eyes returned to Talia. Concern etched every line of his face, a tenderness I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“I told him I was fine,” Talia said with a light laugh, though her tone carried a hint of embarrassment. “I just tripped, Sera. It’s nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious?” Lucian cut in sharply, his jaw tightening. “You’re bleeding, Talia. Sit down. I’ll get the medicine.”
“Lucian, really—”
“Tals, don’t argue,” he interrupted, his tone soft but firm. “Stay here.”
Tals?
The nickname hit me like a slap. I hadn’t heard him use it before, and it rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that sent an ache through my chest. My gaze dropped to her leg, where a small cut marred her otherwise flawless skin. It wasn’t deep, barely enough to warrant his panic, yet here he was, fussing over her like her life was in danger.