[Lavinia's Pov]
"You okay?"
I gave him my best regal nod, like a queen who had just dropped her crown and pretended it was on purpose. "Perfectly fine. Just… reevaluating my life choices."
Osric blinked. "At five years old?"
"You'd be surprised."
He stared at me with that you-need-constant-supervision-or-you'll-set-the-palace-on-fire look again, arms crossed like some disapproving royal nanny. Honestly, if he had a clipboard, I'd be on a government watchlist.
And then—BOOM—a shadow loomed over us like the dramatic entrance cue of a villain in a soap opera.
Before I could blink, I was yeeted off the ground like an overripe turnip. "HUH?!"
I blinked, limbs flopping like an annoyed cat, suddenly cradled in arms that were way too careful, way too tight, and, honestly, too extra.
I tilted my head up.
Lysandre.
