Rían strode beside Rory as they plodded toward Lady Jenaveve who stood under the entrance’s arch, his hands fisting and relaxing every step of the way. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until his brother nudged him.
“Breathe,” Rory whispered. “You’re even making me start to choke!” That was most likely not an exaggeration. Since he could very well sense it, his anxiety was probably strangling his poor brother.
When they were barely a few feet from Jenaveve, he tried to exhale as subtly as he could because he didn’t want her to see how shook he felt. Stop acting like a teenager on his first date, you ídíot! he scolded himself. However, his little pep talk did little to calm the rush of blood clogging his ears, or relieve his sudden cottonmouth that strangled his words. All Je
