The weight of Zarius's hand on his shoulder felt like a brand, hot, heavy, and far too permanent. Cherion could feel the warmth seeping through his cloak, steady and distracting, making his own blood buzz in a way that was, honestly, kind of annoying. He needed air. Or space. Or a very big distraction before he forgot how to breathe like a normal person.
"Oh! Look at those!" Cherion blurted out, a bit too loud. He practically lunged toward a stall draped in strange, shimmering netting, effectively shaking off Zarius's grip.
He didn't look back to see the expression on the Duke's face. He couldn't. Instead, he threw himself into examining a merchant's collection of things that crawled, fluttered, and glowed. Back in his world, bugs were just… bugs. Here, they were apparently useful.
