Cherion shifted closer to Zarius's side as they started walking down the gallery, his hand naturally finding its place against the broad, solid muscles of the Duke's upper back. The heat radiating through Zarius's dusty cloak was a small comfort against the chill creeping through the open window.
In return, Zarius heavy palm dropped onto Cherion's shoulder, his thick fingers anchoring him close, a silent reassurance that the mountain was still standing despite how pale his face looked.
"You were gone a really long time," Cherion murmured, keeping his voice down so it wouldn't bounce off the high ceiling. He didn't say it with accusation, it was just a quiet statement of how long the afternoon had stretched without him.
Zarius tightened his grip on Cherion's shoulder, a faint, weary sigh escaping his chest. "I know. Forgive me."
