«You seem deep in thought, Lyon. Are you worried about Ayra, or is there something else on your mind?» Daphne asks me, her voice gentle and full of concern.
That's the hardest question she could have asked me right now.
«I don't even know myself...» I mutter, my voice low, as I catch sight of my inexplicably melancholic reflection in the rippling water around us. We're lying in the same small thermal pool where she brought me last time—the one carved into a quarry of completely white stone—with her right beside me.