Elias gasped for air, and his eyes snapped open, his breathing uneven, and his heart pounded so loudly he feared it would rip his ribcage. Rowan sat by his side with those ancient yet assuring eyes. He was nothing like his father but everything like his mother—their eyes, his soft smile—as he reached for his hand.
Elias smiled and inched closer. Rowan did not waste time in taking him into his arms and holding him tight like there was no tomorrow.
"You're safe... we're safe," his voice echoed hoarsely, and Elias smiled weakly. Everyone was exhausted, he could tell. Saving him had come with battles, and Cyrus was their hero. Elias turned, and his eyes fell on him.
Cyrus looked nothing short of exhausted, his grey hair loosely falling to his back, his eyes heavy with sleep, and the dark circles underneath his eyes were proof of how long he had been out.
"Thank you," Elias whispered, and Cyrus smiled and then bowed.
"It is my pleasure, Consort."
