Daimon joined Rowena for a private dinner in their quarters. He could tell she'd been ruminating all day on the tale of Cyra.
"Rowena," he said gently. "Please eat something."
His gentle concern broke her reverie. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"Not yet." She said. "But I will let you know."
"I understand." He replied and left it at that.
Rowena smiled at him. She knew he truly did understand. He was the same way. He liked to have more information before he proposed a theory. Besides, she had no idea how to explain all of things she was concerned about.
They made small talk for a little bit longer before the maids arrived to prepare Rowena for bed. Daimon went into the bathroom chamber to put his own nightclothes on, exiting only when he was sure that Rowena's maids had left.
