Wren caught Rowan in a sweep of black as he crumpled to the ground. Last time, he was able to sever his tie to the poison even though he'd had to use Wren's magic to do it. This time, he refused to break away until every last bit of it was gone.
Before Rowan realized what was happening, Wren had stripped him of his tunic with a swift tug that left him no choice but to comply. Wren's own shirt shimmered out of existence, and as the world blurred around him, Rowan remembered that Wren's clothing was created by illusion, though it felt real enough.
Wren dropped to his knees in the poison-blighted grass, dragging Rowan against him in his lap. The frantic words that fell from his lips contrasted with the determination of his movements.
