“That’s different. That’s tradition.”
“Mm-hmm.” Helena didn’t bother hiding her smile. “So what’s the plan for this week? Besides staring at him and hoping he doesn’t run away?”
“I’m not going to stare at him.”
“You stared at him through most of the interview.”
“I was evaluating his responses.”
“You were evaluating something,” Helena agreed. “His responses were just part of it.”
Darragh ignored that because she wasn’t wrong. He’d noticed Finn’s hands during the interview, strong and calloused from actual work. The way Finn’s eyes lit up when he talked about helping people. The curve of his mouth when he smiled.
“I’ve arranged a private dinner tonight,” Darragh said. “Just the two of us. No advisers, no one watching and taking notes.”
“Aldric won’t like that.”
“Aldric can deal with it. If I’m going to spend a week with Finn, I need to know if his honesty is real or if he was just performing during the interview.”
“And if it’s real?”
“Then with luck I’ve found someone who won’t bore me to death.” Darragh grabbed his jacket from the chair. “Have someone show him to the guest quarters. Let him settle in. Dinner is at seven in the smaller dining room, and tell the staff we don’t need servers hovering over us. They’re just to bring the food and leave us alone.”
“That’s going to start rumors.”
“Everything starts rumors in this place.” Darragh headed for the door. “At least this time the rumors might be interesting.”
/~/~/~/~/
Darragh paced the smaller dining room, checking the wine selection for the third time. He’d chosen red - somehow his gut told him Finn would appreciate something full bodied rather than insipid or sweet. Besides, red could go with chicken if Darragh determined it did, and he liked it.
The room itself was comfortable rather than grand. A table that seated eight instead of fifty, windows overlooking the garden instead of the formal courtyard, chairs that were padded so a butt didn’t ache during longer conversations. Darragh had spent countless evenings in the room with his closest friends when he was younger, arguing politics and telling terrible jokes.
If his relationship with Finn was going to work, Finn needed to see the real castle where people lived their lives, not the showcase version most people expected.
The door opened, and Finn walked in, wearing a dark blue jacket that fit well and suited his figure. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his fingers through it nervously. He stopped when he saw Darragh, and for a moment, they just looked at each other.
“Your Majesty,” Finn said, bowing low.
“Darragh,” he corrected. “At least when we’re alone. The formal stuff gets exhausting.”
“Darragh,” Finn repeated, as if he was testing the name and how it felt on his tongue. “All right then.”
“How was the journey?”
“Long, and I would’ve preferred to ride. But it was good to get out of the house for a bit. My mother packed me enough clothes for a month, and Jericho gave me entirely too much advice about court behavior that I’m probably going to ignore.”
“That sounds like fun.” Darragh gestured to the table. “Please have a seat. Did you want some wine?”
“Please.”
Darragh poured two glasses and sat across from Finn. Not at the head of the table where protocol dictated, but directly across so they could talk without shouting down the length of polished wood.
“So,” Finn said after taking a sip. “Your letter didn’t explain how this second interview worked? Do you have a list of questions prepared? Are there tests I need to pass? Have you arranged a schedule of formal events where I can embarrass myself in front of important people?”
“Nothing that organized.” Darragh leaned back in his chair. “I figured we’d just talk and get to know each other. I really wanted to see if we can stand being in the same room for extended periods together.”
“That seems reasonable.” Finn looked around the dining room, his gaze catching on details. “This room is much nicer than the throne room.”
