He didn't stop her when she tore away from him. His eyes blurred over as he stared off into the distance, focusing on nothing in particular. He couldn't comprehend it, Rowan being raped. Used. Abused. Tossed around and thrown aside. He wanted to scream and shout, to release the rage that was currently simmering beneath his skin. He wanted to be able to say with certainty that it hadn't happened because it couldn't have, that she was strong and capable and never would have allowed that to happen to herself.

His gaze slid back to her just in time to see her wretch over the railing. His lips twisted into a grimace, and before he could suppress the urge he leaned over and expelled whatever was left in his stomach. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, only to grimace when he saw the mess. Without another thought he withdrew his wand and magicked it all away—the vomit, the blood, the tearstains she'd left on his shoulder.

"It's shock," he explained, his voice hoarse, "It'll wear off once we're back home."

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