The Flame of Logic wavered now that Mallin had entered the hall. Lysander's face tilted toward it as he observed the erratic movements. A single, blue spark leapt from the top of the flame and vanished in a shimmer of magic.
With Mallin this close, Wren's energy had shifted toward that dark place of his, but the only external indication of his displeasure at the sudden appearance of the man who so resembled Sacha was the way he angled his body in front of Rowan's. His movements were slow and deliberate like a predator ready to strike if Mallin so much as lifted a finger in Rowan's direction.
Normally Rowan would have moved to stand at Wren's side, but this time he stayed where he was. He had the distinct feeling Wren needed to feel in control in order to stay in control.
