"Your… Highness?" Lancelot's voice was uncertain, a rare moment of hesitation slipping through as he stared at the hand wrapped around his wrist.
Florian barely registered the words. His pulse was pounding in his ears, his grip firm yet uncertain. The realization of what he had just done hit him all at once, like a wave crashing over his head.
'What am I doing? What… am I doing?'
A dizzying sense of embarrassment swept over him, making his fingers twitch against Lancelot's skin. His throat felt dry. His mind scrambled for an explanation, but nothing came. He wasn't even sure why he had stopped him.
"I—I…" Florian stammered, eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.
Lancelot turned fully toward him, his orange eyes studying him with unexpected concern. "What's wrong?"
Florian clenched his jaw.
