Suddenly Lysander's eyes grew cloudy, and his face contorted in a grimace. Rowan stepped toward him when he doubled over and clutched his abdomen. His loose hair fell over his shoulders as he heaved up the contents of his stomach. It pained Rowan to see him this way, even if the man probably hated him again.
Rowan turned back to Wren and reached for his hand. Wren withdrew the magic that shimmered at his fingertips before he got too close. He squeezed Wren's fingers between his own while Lysander panted, attempting to straighten himself while gripping his own thighs for support.
"The Disorder is too much for him. Can you ease off just a little? Please."
"You are pleading with him now?" Lysander said between breaths, his eyes half-closed from the pressure of the illusion. "I never would have guessed you for a traitor."
