"What were you two talking about for so long over here?" Rowan asked Wren after Nicasi headed back to the table to deliver Lysander's drink.
"Your happiness."
The brandy Wren offered him shone in the glass, a liquid gem of amber-gold only slightly darker than the eyes that held Rowan captive. He took a sip, and Wren's gaze slipped to his mouth, adding kindling to the fire that toasted his cheeks
"I like this much better than the ale."
"Ale?"
Rowan nodded and took a bigger sip, enjoying the pleasant feeling of both the liquor and Wren's attention. "I had one, and then I had to drink Loma's. It was my duty as her brother. But tell me, if you were only talking about my happiness, why did you look so serious?"
"Because I take your happiness very seriously. There is no only about it."
"Are you sure that's it? You seemed--"
