He let out a long, slow breath. He had to be careful as he is currently sitting in a dark room with a beautiful, half-dressed woman who was, quite literally, asking him to describe desire.
He decided on the truth. The safe, boring, and simplest truth.
"Hmm," he began, his voice a low, thoughtful rumble. "Usually, men are drawn to beautiful people."
It was a terrible answer. It was the answer a young lad would give. It was, however, the only safe answer he could think of.
Ines's eyes, still visible over the top of the paper, blinked.
"I see," she whispered.
She lowered the list, placing it on the desk. Her face was still a bright, lovely shade of pink, but the zeal in her had taken over.
She pulled a second, blank sheet of paper from the pocket of her thin silk robe.
Carcel watched, utterly bemused, as she smoothed it out on the dark, polished wood. She reached for the inkwell and quill that were already on the desk—her desk, he realized—and dipped the tip.
