At the mention of Loma, something akin to panic fluttered to life in Alaric's chest. He'd been pouring all the energy he could spare into keeping it constrained, but it wouldn't stay still under piercing silver of Lysander's gaze.
Cosmos snorted again, this time tossing his head to emphasize his restlessness. Lysander continued to stroke the horse's neck, his long fingers moving calmly over the sleek chestnut of the animal's coat.
"I realize Rowan is the one you would normally share your worries with, if you share them with anyone. But he is not here. I am." There was an unmistakable firmness to Lysander's voice, but this time it sounded less like a command, and more like a plea. "You have seen me at my worst when I thought Nicasi was dead, and you were there for me. I want to be here for you the same way. Talk to me."
Alaric let go of whatever tension he could from his body on an exhalation. He let his pride go along with it.
