The silver teapot was finally empty, but Zarius had reached the absolute limit of his patience.
"If you drink one more cup of tea, Gillian, I am going to throw the tray out the window," Zarius said, pushing his chair back with a heavy, scraping sound against the floor.
Gillian merely smirked, placing his empty cup down with a soft thud. "You have no appreciation for fine leaves, Duke Valtrane. But fine. I suppose we should return to the grand political theater."
Zarius didn't wait for him. He adjusted his coat and stepped out of the reception room, his long strides taking him down the broad, carpeted hallway of the palace's eastern wing. Gillian trailed half a step behind, his hands tucked casually behind his back. The prince didn't have anywhere in particular to be, but he was stubbornly shadowing Zarius's every step, partly out of sheer boredom, and partly because walking beside the imposing Northern Duke made court gossips think twice about approaching him.
