Benjamin looked out the window. The garden outside was still in the morning quiet. There was a gazebo, and a pond with trees at its edges. He wanted to walk, but his left leg made that impossible for now. He reached for the tin of balm the staff had left on the side table.
He had just pried the tin open when someone knocked.
"Come in."
He knew before the doors slid apart. The build, the slight curl of the hair in the shadow.
Charles stepped inside dressed simply. A linen shirt, linen trousers. He looked different. Lighter, somehow. And still, impossibly, himself.
When he saw the tin in Benjamin's hand and the stiffness in the way he was sitting, he crossed the room quickly. "Let me."
"It's fine," Benjamin said, color rising in his face. "I can—"
Charles took the tin from him.
"Lay back."
