The cold air struck Cherion the moment he stepped outside, cutting through the warmth of the ballroom. It immediately cleared away the overwhelming mix of expensive perfumes, fancy noble nonsense, and the lingering feeling of being trapped in the same room as Philia.
Honestly, the fresh air had never felt more beautiful.
Cherion didn't slow down until he had dragged Zarius far enough into the darker corner of the balcony, away from the curious eyes of the capital nobles like they were waiting for another disaster to happen.
Zarius stood quietly beside him, his massive, broad-shouldered frame automatically shifting into place to block the wind from hitting Cherion directly. The Duke looked down at him, his eyes moved over Cherion's face carefully, checking for any sign that something was wrong.
"Nothing shocking other than you dancing with Philia happened tonight, right?" Zarius asked.
