Valen stood near the tall arched window of Philia's private chambers, his broad frame blocking part of the light coming through the glass. His brow was drawn tight with concern as he watched Philia closely.
"Are you truly alright, Lord Philia?" Valen asked softly, stepping closer as Philia finished fastening the top brass button of his high-collared coat. "You still look pale. You barely touched your breakfast this morning."
Philia turned away from the small table mirror, offering Valen a gentle, reassuring smile that reached his light eyes with quiet, practiced warmth. He smoothed down the front of his coat with steady fingers, ensuring every piece of fabric rested perfectly flat.
"I am fine, Valen," Philia said, his voice soft and completely calm. "You worry far too much about me. You always have."
