His head tilting slightly, Finn smiled. “You’d better be careful, or I’ll think you might like me.”
“I know I like you.” Darragh stepped slightly closer. “The question is whether you could like me. The real me, not the crown, or the position, or the political advantages. Just me.”
Finn’s expression softened. “I already do like you. That’s the problem.”
“How can that be a problem?” Darragh was thrilled Finn liked him back.
“Because liking you makes this harder. If I didn’t like you, I could just treat this week as an interesting experience and go home without regrets. But I do like you, which means there’s a possibility this could work, which means I might actually end up as king consort, and that part of things terrifies me.”
“It terrifies me too,” Darragh admitted. “But less than the alternative.”
“What alternative?”
“Going back to looking for someone suitable. Someone qualified and boring who I don’t want to spend time with.” Darragh reached out and touched Finn’s arm, just a brief contact. “I don’t want to do that. I want this. I want you.”
Finn looked at where Darragh’s hand rested on his arm, then back up to meet his eyes. “I’m truly worried about what might happen if I’m terrible at it? What if I embarrass you at the World Council summit, or insult an important guest, or break some crucial protocol?”
“Then we’ll deal with it together.” Darragh dropped his hand but didn’t step back. “I’m not looking for perfection, Finn. I’m looking for a partnership. Someone who’ll work with me, not just follow along behind looking decorative.”
His eyes widening, Finn said with a chuckle, “I can definitely promise I won’t look decorative.”
Darragh laughed. “You’re already doing that better than you think. Just in a different way than other’s might have expected.”
For a long moment they stood there on the path as twilight deepened around them, close enough to touch but not quite touching. The air between them felt charged with possibility,and Darragh wanted that. He wanted Finn. There was no doubt in his mind now.
“We should head back,” Darragh said finally. “Before it gets completely dark.”
“Good idea.” But Finn didn’t move immediately, and neither did Darragh. They just looked at each other in the fading light, and Darragh thought maybe, just maybe, his completely illogical choice might turn out to be the smartest decision he’d ever made.
Chapter Eight
Finn sat in one of the sitting rooms, staring at a book without really reading it. The words blurred together as his mind wandered to the man currently stuck in what Darragh had called “the most tedious meeting in existence” with the harbor masters about shipping regulations.
Three days. He’d been at the castle for three days, and Finn knew he was in real trouble.
Not the kind of trouble where he’d insulted anyone or broken priceless artifacts - although he’d come close the day before when he’d nearly knocked over a vase while gesturing too enthusiastically during a discussion about grain storage. No, his issue was worse than that. His was the kind of trouble where his heart did stupid things every time Darragh walked into a room. He liked Darragh. Really liked him in a way that made his chest tight and his thoughts scatter.
The king was funnier than Finn had expected. Yesterday morning, Darragh had done a devastating impression of one of his advisers that had Finn nearly choking on his breakfast. He was kinder, too - Finn had watched him spend an hour with a visiting merchant family whose warehouse had burned down, arranging temporary storage and waiving fees without hesitation. And Darragh was so confident in himself, in a way that made Finn feel like he could breathe properly and be who he was without hesitation for the first time in years.
They’d spent the last three days talking about everything and nothing. Politics and carpentry. Finn’s childhood adventures with his brothers and Darragh’s relationship with his sister. The proper way to maintain a roof versus the proper way to run a kingdom. The conversations flowed naturally, punctuatedby laughter and comfortable silences. And then there were the moments that weren’t just friendly…
Finn could feel his face heating, but he couldn’t help it. There was justsomethingabout the way Darragh’s hand would brush against his when they walked through the gardens. Intangible - Finn couldn’t describe it - but he could feel it. How Darragh stood just slightly closer than necessary when they looked at maps together in the study. The glances that lingered a beat too long. The warmth in Darragh’s eyes when he smiled at Finn.
Finn wanted to reach back. To close those last few inches between them. To be honest about what he felt instead of holding back. But every time he considered it, his wretched doubt crept in.
No matter what Darragh said or how Finn framed his personal thoughts, he couldn’t stop worrying about ruining everything at some crucial formal event. What if his complete lack of diplomatic training became a liability? What if he let Darragh down when it mattered most?
“You look like you’re contemplating something very serious.”
Finn jerked his head up to find Jericho standing in the doorway, grinning at him. Relief flooded through him.
“Jericho.” Finn dropped the book and crossed the room in three strides, pulling his brother into a hug. “What are you doing here? Did you have business at the castle?”
“I did. It was called visiting my favorite brother.” Jericho returned the hug, then stepped back to look at Finn. “You look good. Different, but good.”
“Different how?”
“Less tense. Like maybe you’re not trying quite so hard to convince yourself you don’t belong here.” Jericho settled intoone of the chairs and gestured for Finn to sit. “So. Three days with the king, so far. How’s it going?”
