She smirked, lifting her wine glass. “Advice,” she said. “Frommi’abeya.”
“Your grandmother was a romantic?”
“Most Schonese are.”
Thom raised his brow. “You’re not,” he said.
She reached over and slapped his cheek, though not hard enough to hurt. “I am the most romantic soul you’ll ever meet,” she said with a sharp yet playful tone. “I’ve just acted as a soldier around you, and there is no time for romance on the battlefield.”
“Well, I’ll have to disagree with you there,” Thom quipped. He offered her a wry smile. “You saved my life, and I find that quite romantic.”
She gave him a derisive frown.
“Besides,” Thom continued, gesturing to her form, lounging in the chair. “This is a decidedly unsoldier-esque look. I’d venture to call it downright feminine.”
“I am a woman.”
“I noticed.”
A pleased smile spread across her full lips, illuminating her dark eyes. She truly was beautiful. The soft blue of her dress enhanced her tawny skin, giving it a deeper golden hue—a blend of her dark-skinned Ephrian and bronze-complexed Schonese heritage. Its flowing fabric swooped low, revealing more of her sculpted décolletage than the Shires would deem appropriate. Her tight curls danced whimsically around her cheeks and shoulders. If he had been more of a scoundrel, he would have devoted the whole evening to trying to seduce her.
As it was, he held his attraction in with a tight rein.
“So,” Brea said, changing the subject, “what will you ask for? If Evylin and Deckard refuse the position, would you really want to go with themwherever?”
Without hesitation, Thom nodded. “I’ll stay with them no matter what.”
“What if they want to live in Estshire with her family?”
Thom chuckled at the notion. “They won’t go for that. Neither of them desires to live in a small village. At worst, they’ll opt to leave Loclight for a different city.”
She poured them both another glass of wine, and Thom envied her inability to feel the effects of alcohol. It was already lightening his thoughts enough to allow him to give her leering looks as before. His eyes darted down to her neckline at the thought.
“You’re a good brother, you know?” she said, startling his attention back up. “You always have been.”
Thom scoffed nervously as she handed him the wine glass. “Not always.”
“Ever since I’ve known you.”
“You’ve known me at my least difficult state,” he said, passing her an amused glance. “And even then, I was still quite difficult.”
“You’ve never been difficult to me.”
“That’s because I like you.”
The second the words passed his lips, Thom’s stomach dropped.
Brea paused, her glass halfway to her lips. Seated side by side, he was glad she wasn’t looking directly at him as he hid his mortification behind a sip.
With a friendly pat on his hand, Brea broke the awkward silence. “I’m glad,mi’caro,” she said.
Thom bristled. Ever since their conversation, he’d increasingly disliked the nickname. Once, she’d said it with teasing affection. Now, she used it almost derisively, like she was mocking the feelings she once held for him.
“And are we to expect an announcement soon?” Brea asked.
Thom frowned. “In regard to what?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Your engagement.”
