Shattering, Brandy, and Silence (3/3)

At the house, Wren lingered in the doorway while Rowan went inside. "You should lie down."

"I thought we were going to have cake," Rowan said.

After a moment, a ghost of a smile played across Wren's lips. "Of course. How could I have forgotten."

He came inside and stopped Rowan from getting the plates from the cupboard. "I'll do that. You sit."

Rowan sat in the chair Wren pulled out for him. His legs ached, and he decided he'd had enough of wearing boots for the day. When he bent to remove them, the remnants of Wren's magic flared in his shoulder, and he let out a hiss of air between pursed lips.

Before Rowan realized what was happening, Wren dropped to one knee in front of him. He lifted the foot that Rowan had been reaching for, then gently tugged off the boot and set it under the table. Rowan watched the top of Wren's black hair, frozen to his seat as the young man repeated the action on the other side.