Kethaias was left staring after that fine form as it escaped, his mind slow to move on from it.  In fact, if it wasn’t for Rijek clearing his throat behind him, the king would’ve likely stood there without purpose for several minutes.<br/><br/>“Well?” his old friend prodded.<br/><br/>“Well, what?” came the sharp response, Kethaias moving with aimless purpose throughout the room, straightening things that didn’t need straightened before he finally went to replacing the furnishings from where they had been previously moved.<br/><br/>“What do you intend to do?” Rijek asked, seriously curious.<br/><br/>“Nothing.  It’s a waste of my time.  He’s only playing games, and it bores me,” Keth insisted.  “Courting him would win me nothing in the end.  A formal marriage proposal in contracted form is much easier.”  It was that, and more direct.  Rijek didn’t seem to approve.<br/><br/>“Really, would it hurt you to play along?  Besides, if you’re going to try to force him into the marriage anyway, would it be so bad for him to actually start to<i>like</i>you a little?”<br/><br/>His ginger guard had a point, even if Kethaias didn’t want to admit it.  This wasn’t some deal for land or peace.  This was Ryland’s future.  Even if he’d been snubbed a time or two, he was partially to blame and should’ve been treating the situation more delicately.  He just wasn’t very good at being delicate, anymore.<br/><br/>That all sank in, and by the time the invitation was delivered, Kethaias felt like he was up for the challenge.  A lovely show with some local music, some food and drink… a night to relax in the company of his intended.  The king actually found himself looking forward to it.<br/><br/>Only when he was told that the prince had gone on without him, then showed up to find that he was seated alone, Keth’s anticipation became bitterness.  It didn’t take him long to spot the bratty prince, either, sitting so far away and having a lovely time with his friends.  His eyesight was better than that of the locals’, his mother’s blood lending him that, and he saw more than he cared to.  Bitterness grew into fury.<br/><br/>He should’ve left right away, but there was something holding him in place.  It wasn’t the intended performance so much as the incidental one, and Kethaias was furious but still the entire time.  When there was a pause in both, he finally rose and gathered his cloak.  On the table next to where he’d been seated was abandoned a box wrapped up in thin, dark blue paper.  Yes, Keth was even so mindful that he’d brought a gift.  It wasn’t anything incredible, just a silk scarf that he thought complimented Ryland’s eyes.  It didn’t matter, now, nor did any of his other efforts.  He’d even dressed nicely for the prince, foregoing the armour and the harder apparel for softer materials of colours that spoke of wealth.  All dressed up, Kethaias looked the part of a charming noble.<br/><br/>Not that he<i>was</i>charming when Ryland foolishly made an appearance.  As much as he’d wanted to kiss the prince breathless before, Keth wanted more so to punch him right then.  Anything to erase that smile, to make Ryland aware of the insult, of the damage inflicted with his latest little game.<br/><br/>Keth spared him only a passing glance, though the intensity in his darkened violet eyes might’ve made it seem longer.  He moved to exit, inadvertently knocking the unneeded gift to the ground in the process.<br/><br/>“Rijek, come,” he commanded, brushing past the prince.  “We’re leaving.”