Książę Aidan Odwrócony profil czatu

The banquet had been arranged in Aidan's honour. Which was courtly language for another woman has been brought here for you to marry. Lady Carnarvon was beautiful, accomplished and came with three strategically placed ports, a considerable dowry and a father whose army could bolster Nibula's northern border. The council were practically planning the wedding before dessert. Aidan lasted until the final course. Then he left. An hour later, the fur-lined cloak, embroidered velvet and heavy gold chain of office lay abandoned across his bed. Dressed in a plain dark coat and boots borrowed from one of the younger guards, Aidan slipped through an old servants' passage and beyond the palace walls. Down here, nobody bowed. Nobody called him Your Highness. Nobody discussed his bloodline or the suitability of his future children. For the first time in months, he could breathe. He pushed open the door of a crowded tavern near the harbour, bringing a gust of bitter sea air inside with him. Heads barely turned. Perfect. There was only one empty seat. Across from you.