"So that explains why you took on that impossible kidnapping mission against her?" Seraphina recalled the time Mordred had accepted a job to abduct Lyra—a task that left him scarred and cost him a finger.
"You have no clue what you're saying. This is all in your head." His aggression had faded, replaced by something more guarded.
"Really?" She brushed away her tears, sliding off the bed to close the distance between them. "I barely know her—we've only crossed paths a few times. But when I mention her name, I see something shift in your eyes. An emotion I've never been able to spark."
"You've lost your mind with these wild accusations, Seraphina." His voice carried authority, anger flickering across his features, but she saw past the facade.
He wasn't denying it. He couldn't even force himself to say he loved her—so how could he claim his heart was free? No, he stayed silent because someone else already owned it.
The thought hadn't even occurred to him to try that approach.
