Before Loma finished her sentence, Rowan felt the familiar sensation of the shadows parting directly behind him.
Normally, it was a whisper of magic through his liminal senses like a fingertip tracing up his spine. This time Wren emerged in a great rush of energy that rolled over Rowan's entire body and made him feel like he was sitting near a fireplace on a day that was too warm for fires.
His heart dropped to his feet when he saw the expression on Wren's face.
Things had been better after he absorbed the poison at Yamm's palace. Rowan had been naive enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, some of Wren's personal poison was gone for good. He realized now with sickening surety that he was wrong.
On the outside, Wren looked terrifyingly calm. But that was mere illusion. Beneath the smoothness of his brow and gold veneer of his eyes, a storm raged in shades of crimson and shadow.
