Merlin's eyes tore over Seraphine's form, his brows furrowing as he took in the sight of the blood on her clothes.
"I told you I'm fine…" she huffed, having never expected him to be a worrywart.
"None of this is mine."
"Don't remember you being messy…" he pointed out, and she chuckled.
"How many?"
"Only two."
His eyes hardened, anger slipping beneath his composure. Some are directed at her, but it's mostly at himself.
"I knew better. None of it felt right. I should've been with you," Merlin muttered.
"Since when did I become an invalid?" Seraphine quipped.
"You do know that Prince Eric will cut my head off once he sees as much as a scratch on you, right? I have all the reasons to be worried."
"Hey, Prince Eric isn't that ruthless! You're exaggerating!"
"To you, he isn't."
