Elian was a few feet behind Lucien as they walked outside the mansion.
The royal, black carriage was already waiting for them to depart, and Elian was left to wonder exactly where he was supposed to sit.
"It's just a few days; you won't die," Rowan slowly walked over to Elian, smiling.
Elian sighed, glancing at Rowena. "I don't know," he shrugged.
"I know," Rowan said, his gaze lowering to Elian's gloved hands. "He made you wear these... why?" Rowan gently took Elian's hand, rubbing his thumb against the smooth, gloved palm.
Elian nodded. "I don't know," he lied.
He couldn't just say why... Rowan wouldn't even believe him. Worse, Rowan might start to fear him and stay away. He didn't want to lose the friendship he'd found with Rowan; yes, Rowan was a noble, but he was a noble noble.
"It's time to leave," Rowan tilted his head toward the carriage as the coachman walked toward the door.
Elian sighed. "Goodbye," he said, stepping away from Rowan.
