“It’s different,” Helena said carefully.
“It’s refreshing,” Darragh corrected. He exchanged a glance with his advisers that Finn couldn’t quite read. “Thank you, Finn. For your honesty, if nothing else.”
“Right.” That sounded like a dismissal. Finn stood, adjusting his jacket. “Well, thanks for seeing me. Sorry, I wasn’t more... whatever you were looking for.”
“You might be surprised,” Darragh said. “We’ll be in touch.”
Finn knew a standard polite dismissal, when he heard it. He nodded to the advisers, executed another hopefully acceptable bow, and headed for the door. The guards opened it, and Finn stepped out into the corridor, breathing easier once he was out of that formal space.
I blew it. Obviously. Spending half the interview explaining why he was unsuitable probably wasn’t the best strategy. But at least he’d been honest about it, and Finn could live with that.
For some reason, though, as Finn made his way out of the castle, he felt a small twist of disappointment in his chest, which was stupid. He didn’t want to be king consort. He’d said as much multiple times during the interview.
But Darragh had been...interesting, funny and real in a way Finn hadn’t expected a king to be. And that laugh…I could spend a lifetime listening to that laugh.
Finn shook his head as he stepped out into the afternoon sun. It didn’t matter. He’d done his duty, had the interview, and now he could go home and tell Jericho he’d tried. The king would choose someone else. Someone who knew about playing court games and who had a much more suitable pedigree. A person who knew what they were doing would be a bonus, but whoever it was, it wouldn’t be Finn.
That stubborn twist of disappointment didn’t go away, though. Even as Finn headed toward the stables to collect his horse, even as he told himself the outcome was exactly what he’d wanted, a small part of him couldn’t help thinking about blue eyes, anunexpected laugh and the way Darragh had looked at him like Finn’s honesty was a gift.
Stop it,he told himself again.You’re going home. This is over.
But somehow, it didn’t quite feel over. Not yet. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Chapter Five
“No.”
Darragh looked up from where he’d been staring at the table, still thinking about brown eyes and an easy smile. “Excuse me?”
Aldric folded his hands across his considerable stomach. “The boy was disrespectful, Your Majesty. He insulted his own capabilities, questioned the value of proper protocol, and admitted he had no skills relevant to being a royal consort.”
“He was honest,” Darragh corrected.
“He was inappropriate.” Thomas must’ve been concerned because he actually spoke up. “Your Majesty, we can’t seriously consider someone who thinks honey cakes are acceptable payment for labor.”
“Why not? If he enjoys honey cakes and knows the person he was helping didn’t have anything else to offer, where’s the harm in that?”
Helena sighed, the sound conveying decades of dealing with stubborn monarchs. “Your Majesty, Darragh. Be reasonable. The boy has no polish whatsoever.”
“I don’t want polish. I’ve told you time and time again, if I’m getting married I want it to be with someone I can talk to.” Darragh leaned back in his chair. “Did any of you actually listen to what he said? He nailed the biggest problem facing Safe Harbor in three sentences. He understood the perception issue better than half our trade negotiators.”
“Understanding a problem and being equipped to solve it are different things,” Aldric pointed out.
“Are they? I’m not so sure.” Darragh stood, pacing to the window. The throne room felt too formal, too constraining. Hewanted to be back in his study, maybe with a drink, definitely without three advisers telling him why the first interesting person he’d met in years was unsuitable. “He had solutions. Practical ones.”
“‘Show them we’re better’ isn’t a solution,” Thomas said. “It’s a philosophy at best.”
Darragh spun around. “It’s more than what anyone else suggested. Lady Catherine wanted to redecorate the castle. Lord Baltic wanted to eliminate half of our traditions. And Lord Marvin, Martin, or whatever his damn name was, thought the World Council summit was something that happened thirty years ago.”
“There were other candidates…”
“They bored me to tears.” Darragh cut Aldric off. “Every single one. They either agreed with everything I said before I finished saying it, or they spent the entire interview listing their qualifications like they were reading from a shopping list.”
Helena exchanged glances with the other advisers. “So you want to continue with Lord Finn?”
“I want a second round of interviews. With select candidates who showed potential.”
“How many candidates are we talking about?” Thomas pulled out his ever-present notebook.
