“I’m not worried. Not truly… It’s just become something of a running joke at this point. His flirtatious manner and my jealousy. Perhaps being able to joke about it has eased his forgiveness after I crippled the Symphony of his friend in a bout of wrath.” Arvælyn smirked darkly,
“I don’t regret it a whit. I got what I wanted. The offending party is out of our lives and Finn is well and truly mine.” His smile faded slightly, as the fire in his eyes seemed to surge.
“You will not tell him I said that.” There was weight to his voice that might have made Ciarán question whether it had been a Command, but when that moment passed the prince’s smile returned to its prior ease.
“Look at that, frater! You have made of me a confidante. Perhaps you aren’t so poor at forging friendships, after all. I certainly feel closer to you after prevailing upon you to donate a few hours of your private time to dine with me.” He paused,
“At any rate, we must work on that for you. It is a terrible thing to feel alone in a crowd and I would not have it thus for you.” He glanced askance, as if looking at something on the wall but there was nothing out of the ordinary if Ciarán followed his eye line.
“Your assessment is complete. A report is being drawn up for your review. It should be complete by the time we finish dessert… did you still want to take me out on the town, if we aren’t comatose from the food and wine?” He smiled as he took a savouring sip of the latter.
