The heavy drapes were pulled halfway open, letting the late-afternoon light creep into the study like it had somewhere better to be.
Cherion sat on the edge of the sofa, his fingers mindlessly tracing the brass trim while his brain was clearly somewhere else entirely.
Behind him, heavy, familiar footsteps rustled against the rug.
Zarius stepped up to the sofa, resting his hands casually over the back of the frame, leaning down until his chin rested near Cherion's temple. His breath was warm against Cherion's skin, smelling faintly of black tea and dried cedar.
"You're very quiet," Zarius murmured, his heavy gaze settling on the side of Cherion's face. "Let me guess. You're thinking about the trip to the south?"
Cherion let out a short, quiet breath, leaning his head back just enough to rest against Zarius's shoulder. "No. Not that." He paused, a tiny, faint curve touching the corner of his lips. "I was actually just thinking about how all of this started."
