Her hands in his.

Nose to nose, their breaths mingling together as they did not quite kiss.

Here, in an alcove shielded from view, a brief moment to relish one another before returning to the pagentry of society and the limitations set upon them by his father. At one-and-thirty, Robin supposed, he really ought to know better. To think that Ziya could have captured his heart so fully, become a part of him so completely that the thought of being without her was an anathema to him.

Robin had wondered, once, if it wouldn't be easier to let their moments like this be witnessed. If he thought his father would allow him to do the honorable thing in such a situation, he might have done it, might have asked Ziya if she was willing to brave the scandal alongside him in exchange for the outcome—matrimony—that polite society would demand from them. But his father...

Still, after three decades of living for the family, the wizard was resolved that he wanted now to live his life for her, for them.

"Run away with me," he whispered.