While Yamm and Ozul were busy appreciating the new magic of the garden, Rowan grabbed Wren's hand and led him out of sight behind a lilac bush. Wren's lips tilted in in a crooked smile at Rowan's sudden eagerness to drag him away.
Excitement flashed in his eyes when Rowan flattened a hand to his chest, guiding him back against the blooms. The leaves of the bush rustled as they accommodated the press of Wren's body. The perfume of the flowers filled the air, the heady scent made even sweeter by magic of the ambrosia that had fueled their creation.
A particularly large bloom came to rest by Wren's cheek. The pale purple hue provided a delicate contrast with the midnight black of his hair. His eyes shone softly on Rowan's face, warming his skin wherever they landed.
Rowan leaned in to inhale the lilac's perfume before exhaling softly in Wren's ear. "Let's tell them I'm tired," he whispered.
