Kelson had to stop himself from making any more assumptions about Linhardt, and his own world. Clearly, as the other had said, there had been a misunderstanding. He went through the others words again and explanation, trying to figure out all the twists and turns of where he had gone wrong, and then, simply, decided to abandon everything and start new. Question everything.

Which was difficult because as Linhardt was reminded of Caspar, Kelson was reminded of his blood brother Dhugal. Always wanting to have a good time, relaxed, easy going. And a battle surgeon and magical healer.

He missed him too.

Kelson put a hand up when Linhardt was finished. "I apologize as well. Just for clarification." Kelson felt he had to ask and hoped the other wouldn't be completely offended. "Do you approve of what your father has done?" If not, well. Kelson was completely confused as to how someone could abhor killing and yet sanction what was happening. But people were people. They came in all different packages. He just hoped his new found friend was everything he seemed.

He was sorely tempted to truth read the other, to try and find out if they were telling the truth but. That was rude. And, what actually stopped him was not knowing if Linhardt could tell. He did have magic after all.

"It does get easier." Kelson agreed at last, in a small voice. "And that worst part, you are right." It was horrible. And perhaps one of those terrible things about being a king that Linhardt had mentioned. Having to live with yourself and the decisions you were forced to make. Having to like yourself after. Or pretend you like yourself.

"You mean finding places other than our assigned rooms?" Wasn't that the entire point of a bedroom? To sleep in?

"So if I cut myself, you can heal it?" He paused. "Can you cure hangovers?"