Laurent rubs at the bridge of his nose, head aching. A guard comes in with his wine goblet and a refill decanter and he receives it gratefully, waiting only until the guard leaves before he drinks.

"I certainly don't mind the reprieve from being pawed at by half the court," Laurent comments, slumping back against the couch and stretching one leg out with a sort of aggressive idleness. "But I do mind being caught wrong-footed like that. I need to know what's expected of me, or else you and I are going to spend a few weeks avoiding the court entirely."

Draining the first cup of wine, Laurent lets it dangle from his hand and tips his head up toward the ceiling. "We could leave the court. Visit some of the provinces and crown holdings."