Lamont initially had no interest in getting to know his wife to be, especially not after her grand entrance. To get to know her meant he accepted what his parents had placed on his shoulders, and he did not want to accept. He had accepted what others wanted of him all of his life, whether he liked it or not. As the sixth and youngest son of the royal family, he was never meant to rule a country, let alone two countries. Though he was well-read in politics, he held no passion for it, and he knew nothing of combat. His brothers, all so much more capable than he ever was, had gotten themselves killed one by one either in combat or through assassination attempts. Now the future of Berinike rested on his shoulders. The worst of it was that he could not defy or deny his fate. Marrying Princess Kiara meant peace for two kingdoms, and he was not foolish enough to refuse that. He understood that this option was the best course of action. His union with Kiara would change the course of history. However, how was he to keep himself alive when his brothers could not? Furthermore, how was he going to keep an entire country alive? Two countries? The weight of such a responsibility left him with many sleepless nights, had destroyed his appetite, had dampened his view on life. Books were his only relief through a life he felt he was ill-equipped to face. Though he barely got along with his brothers, he felt he didn't have sufficient time to mourn their deaths. And now it was time to marry the enemy.

Lamont assumed that Kiara had nothing to do with his brothers' murders. In fact, he believed she probably felt as much hatred towards his country and trepidation towards him as he did for her. Yet he found it impossible to smile at her, to greet her warmly, to accept her apology. His Berinike pride would now allow him to yield to his parents' thoughtless decision, to Kiara... not just yet.

So, Lamont studied her carefully with a calculated gaze as he wordlessly took the book from her, then dropped his gaze as he opened it. He flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. Carefully, he folded the corner of the page, closed the book, then moved across the room to carefully return it to its place on one of the shelves. He glanced over his shoulder at Kiara. He felt bad for making her feel bad and was a little touched by her sincere confession that she wanted to get to know him. But she was still the enemy...

He sighed softly and approached her. "Take my arm," he suggested, holding out his elbow to her. "We'll walk together to lunch. When we open the doors to the dining hall, we will pretend that we actually enjoy each other's company. Mother and Father will see right through it, of course, because they know me too well, but Mother will respect our efforts to keep up appearances. She says half of politics is keeping up appearances and swapping masks so-to-speak, so to her, we'll be practicing our new roles." He forced the faintest of smiles. "Shall we?"

Whether Kiara accepted the offer to walk beside him or not, he moved out of the room. As "frail" as he seemed to look, he moved like his father, in steady, confident strides, his head held high, the master of this castle, though inside he longed for nothing more than to return to his quiet, reclusive corner with his books.