The anti mage was shirtless. A slat of sunlight fell right across the letter that was held between callused fingers that Syryn now knew very intimately.
He couldn't read the anti mage's expression. So blank and neutral, a mask that didn't betray an inkling as to the emotions that its wearer might have been feeling.
"Rowan, which one are you reading?" He asked the anti mage.
"I've read them all already," the anti mage answered. "I know now why you were so reluctant to hand them over to me."
Syryn laid on his stomach and wondered what to say to that.
"So you've met Altaire this time." Rowan set down the letter and looked at the teen who was pretending he had gone deaf. "You wouldn't stop talking about him when I asked you if there was anyone you looked up to. I'm glad you got to meet him, Ryn."
The teen raised his head. "You're not upset by the things I wrote?"
