Cherion didn't protest. He just let himself get dragged along, his wrist firmly caught in Zarius's grip, feeling how tense he still was through the contact. It was… kind of weird, being hauled back into the castle like some prized dog while everything outside kept moving like nothing had happened.
The adrenaline that had been holding him together out there finally started to wear off. And in its place came this dangerously strong urge to laugh.
He had to press his lips together to stop it. If he actually laughed right now, Zarius would probably think he'd lost it. But honestly, the image was just too good.
Philia, the golden boy, the miracle child, the pride of wherever, flailing around in freezing water like a wet chicken. It was almost too perfect. The kind of scene that would feel fake if you read it in a novel.
Zarius, meanwhile, was not amused.
