Night time arrived and Altaire made dinner for the both of them. He was, as Syryn discovered, an excellent cook.
The mage had never known that a bowl of seasoned rice could taste so good. Altaire had also served a bowl of clear soup boiled with leafy greens, and a savoury venison dish that had an exotic spicy taste to it.
"I've had a lot of time to mull over your story," Altaire said to him. "In the end, did the bud bloom for you?"
Syryn didn't know. He hadn't been in the mood to find out.
"You don't know?"
"No. It doesn't matter." Rowan had made his decision early on. Whether it bloomed or not, the blond had wanted only Syryn.
"I can ask around," Altaire offered.
"Sounds like you're more curious about it than I am."
"I can't deny it. The fate of the world rests on Eos' answer."
Syryn felt his insides squeeze. Rowan had told him they would have to work together to defend themselves from an apocalypse that could end humanity.
