Tav rolled his eyes. “Okay, I get it, I’ll pay attention. It’s rude of me to waste your time.”

“Almost inexcusably rude—almost!—but understandable. We’ve been going for hours.”

“I honestly don’t even know what day of the week it is,” Tav said wearily, pressing his palms to his face and dragging them down. His stubble was dangerously close to “creeper beard” but he’d been too tired to shave.

“It’s a great day to pay attention to your better,” Johan said with a faux haughty smile that undercut his words.

“Aye? When is this better arriving?” Tav asked, which got a chuckle from Johan. The prince stood and stretched, a reminder that though he was making jokes he was also doing work. So many people were spending time and energy to help him. He needed to push himself harder.

“All right. I’m focused now. We can get back to this weird role playing because I need to be ready.”

He couldn’t disappoint Johan, or Jamie or Cheryl or the weans. He most definitely couldn’t let down Portia, who’d run herself ragged on his behalf.

“When I was a child, my advisors told me that learning to make small talk with the aristocracy is the same as picking up another language. It requires practice and time. I think that’s nonsense, though.” Johan stroked his sharp jaw and regarded Tav through narrowed eyes. “All you have to do is channel your international man of mystery.”

Tav scoffed and tugged at a lock of hair. “International? The last time I traveled outside the UK there was no gray in these strands.”

“Okay, your national man of mystery. Just be smooth, charming, and playful, like when you were flirting with Portia at lunch today. And yesterday. And the day before.” Johan’s smile had an edge to it now.

“I don’t flirt,” Tav grumped. “Man of mystery. What a laugh. This would be easier if Portia could just tell me what to say to these gits. Like Cyrano, but wooing aristos instead of a woman.”

“If you can’t even hold a conversation without Portia by your side to guide you, you have more problems than I can help you with.” The edge had crept from his smile into his tone, and his eyes were suddenly serious.

“I can chat just fine—I’ve managed it for most of thirty-eight years, mate. I’m just tired,” Tav said.

Johan tsked. “You’re going to be tired all the time in this new life of yours. Do you know who bears the brunt of it when a man given power gets tired?”

“Christ, look, if you have something to say, just say it. Out with it.”

Johan exhaled deeply, as if he’d been waiting for Tav to ask.

“Portia is not your walking stick, McKenzie. If you cannot do something without her, that means that when you do something with her, you’re bearing down on her with all your force. You’re a large man, and every walking stick has a maximum load it can take before it snaps. Adding romantic liaisons only decreases the loadbearing capabilities.”

“Fuck’s sake, what are you on about? We’re talking the physics of walking sticks now? Portia and I are adults, and we’ll deal with whatever happens.” He didn’t need a lecture from a guy whose exploits could make a list as long as St. Nick’s.

“I don’t do love or any of that foolishness,” Johan said. “But relationships don’t just happen. You both are making decisions, even when you pretend you’re not. Ignoring that fact is a fantastic way to get hurt, or hurt her.”

“Aye, well, I don’t think there will be any hurting, okay? Our relationship is strictly professional for now.”

“For now? Schiesse de merde. That’s cute, but I have intruded enough. Is there anything else you want to talk about while you have me trapped in this dank excuse for a parlor?”

“Nope. I’m about talked out.”

“Great. Back to work.” Johan stroked his chin thoughtfully, then snapped. “Oh! I just thought of something I wanted to talk about.”

“You’re a terrible actor,” Tav said with an aggrieved sigh.

Johan ignored him. “You know what I found very taxing when my mother became engaged to the king? Being in the public eye. There was all this talk of how to handle a step-prince, what my behavior was like, my physical attributes. I wasn’t prepared for it all, but I wouldn’t talk to anyone because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.”

He glanced at Tav with a knowing look.

“I said I was talked out,” Tav sighed.

“I know. That’s why I’m talking.” Another smirk.

In the treatises and medieval texts Tav had studied, Liechtienbourger knights were generally described as haughty, outlandish, and unexpectedly deadly because they were unmatched in persistence. It seemed this trait was still in the gene pool.

Johan was maybe the only person in Tav’s orbit right now who might understand how he felt. Jamie tried to be supportive, but he mostly thought Tav’s complaints were whinging. Cheryl was stressed about all the changes to their lives. Portia was too busy trying to make sure everything went smoothly for him. If Johan had something else to offer besides steering him through social situations and commenting on his love life, Tav would take it.

“Fine.” Tav poured himself more water.

“Oh, is something on your mind?” Johan asked like the cheeky bastard he was.