"You're worrying."
The voice was soft, close, and entirely too knowing.
Eris's head snapped up.
Soren stood a few paces away, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his pale hair catching the firelight. He'd been watching her. For how long, she couldn't say.
"I'm thinking," she corrected coolly.
"Same thing." He pushed off the frame and crossed the room with that unhurried grace that made every movement look deliberate, calculated. "You've been distant all evening."
"I've been focused."
"And you've been avoiding me."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he was already closing the distance between them, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor. He stopped in front of her, reached down, and plucked the goblet from her hands before she could protest.
"Hey—"
"You haven't taken a single sip," he said, setting it aside. "You've just been staring at it like it might explode."
Eris stood, crossing her arms. "Give it back."
"No."
"Soren—"
