There was no other option but for Aire to follow his mother out of the kitchen unless he wanted to be brutally interrogated in front of a lowly servant, probably embarrassing them both and leading to the servant's possible death. Before the door shut behind him, he turned his head toward the servant and though her back was toward him, he said in a low voice, "I'm sorry."

"What was that?" the Queen asked, turning to her son as they walked toward the dinner table, now filled with guests.

"Nothing, mother," Aire replied politely. The Queen merely smiled at him and patted his arm.

"You're going to make a fine young King. I've already got some lovely women in mind for you to take in as your wife." She motioned to a young woman sitting between Duke Rowlan Marche of Barboan and his wife, Aliana Marche. "See her? That's the daughter of Rowlan, as you can probably tell. She looks almost just like him - and he is a very handsome man, I must say. Look, she's looking this way, wave at her. Hello, Marietta."

The Queen raised a hand and waved at the girl, and Aire followed suit in an awkwardly forced manner.

"Anyway," his mother continued, turning again to him. "Rowlan has informed me that she's quite infatuated with you. Do you even remember her? It's been some years since they visited, I believe their last visit was before your father died, but you and Marietta got along just fine. Just fine!"

Aire sighed audibly, though his mother paid no mind. He didn't know how to tell her that he was not quite ready for marriage yet.

"And there's Rachel Wetherby - Micus and Fiona's daughter, from Ostrand. Oh, Fiona recently passed, and word is that the poor dear is getting ready to marry her father if she can't find a suitor soon. Wouldn't you like to save her that trouble?"

Aire looked at the woman in mind with disgust, then at his mother with an equally disturbed expression.

"Mother," he said. "Why do I have to marry someone from another kingdom?"

The Queen looked at her son with a shocked expression, as if his question was the absolute definition of preposterous.

"More power, more land!" she exclaimed. "More fortune! Don't you want to secure the future of this kingdom? We aren't exactly the most prosperous kingdom, Ellie, and it's a vital...vital [i]must[/i] that you get married as quickly as possible! And I will [i]not[/i] marry my own son. Oh, I need a drink. You wear me out, Ellie."

Aire cringed at the use of his childhood nickname, one he'd always despised due to its implication at femininity. Before he could protest the words his mother spoke, she was prancing off after a servant carrying a tray of wine glasses. Another huffed breath escaped him and he seated himself at the head of the table, his designated spot. A glass of wine was offered to him, and he took it. Never before had he drank a type of alcohol - but he figured he'd better get used to it. It was almost a requirement at royal parties.