"Jon, what's wrong?"

Jon looked down at the brunette whose head was on his shoulder, and sighed. Today had not been the best day. And it had started so well. "Nothing."

She twisted her head to face him. "With a sigh like that, 'nothing' is not a good enough reply. C'mon, tell me."

He hesitated before responding. "Alanna didn't, ah, take it too well. And I didn't take her not taking it too well too well."

"Ah." Daine looked apprehensive. "What exactly defines "too well"? For instance, should I be running?"

"No. It wasn't you she was angry with." He brushed his lips against her forehead.

"Oh. She can't stay mad at you for long, can she?"

He let out a short, humourless laugh at that, remembering what had happened when the girl Keladry had been put on probation. "She's Alanna. She can stay mad at anyone for long. Years, possibly decades."

"Well, she'll have to put up with you. After all, you are her king," Daine pointed out, apparently now dismissing the subject.

A thoughtful expression appeared on his face; an expression that she was unsure of. "Yes, I am."

A knock sounded on the door. "Jon? It's Thayet."