He could rule the world, Proteus could.
Sinbad leaned back against the pillar, watching his prince mingle among the crowd. If Proteus had known he was here, he would have dragged him into the crowd, surreptitiously clinging to him as if Sinbad's mere touch could save him from the boredom and fawning followers. Or maybe it would change after all these years, and the two of them would leave behind the crowd, and lose themselves in a world of their making. But he didn't know Sinbad was there, and that was the way Sinbad wanted it.
At least, that's what he told himself. It was what Proteus deserved. He deserved this, the world presented to him on a platter, not the life of a pirate. The love of a pirate. Proteus would rule Syracuse, Syracuse would love him, and Sinbad would be content to be its silent defender, content to stand, unseen in shadows to catch a mere glimpse of his prince, his love.
It was what Proteus deserved, even if the prince hadn't agreed.
Sinbad turned away, and let the shadows swallow up the place he had stood.