Elian gasped, curling his fingers in to stop whoever it was from making contact with his hand.
"You never mentioned you had some royal friend visiting," the man holding Elian's wrist walked out from the shadows, never releasing him.
Elian was awed by the man's height.
He towered over him, black hair slicked back to reveal his handsome face. Brown eyes bored down at him, making him feel at ease by the way they held a secret mirth. He was dressed like a noble, yet his aura was carefree and welcoming.
"He is no royalty, Rowan. Unhand the traitor," Lucien's cold voice echoed behind them.
Rowan narrowed his eyes slightly, regarding Elian with interest.
"You look nothing like a traitor," Rowan murmured and released Elian's wrist.
Elian cast his gaze down, hating the wave of ease that washed over him. He should never feel at ease around a noble. They could smile in your face and still push your cart off a cliff.
Rowan turned away, walking toward Lucien beside the table.
