Dorian had been prepared to apologize to Carina. He'd actually practiced what he would say. A rare occurrence for someone who usually spoke without needing rehearsal.
He would acknowledge that he'd been unnecessarily harsh at the ball, that he could have handled her advance with more grace, that publicly humiliating her had been beneath him as both a king and a gentleman.
But then she'd walked into the training grounds, given him that cold, formal greeting that she'd never used with him before, and walked straight past him to Magnus.
Magnus. His eternally composed Beta who had just spent the entire sparring match looking like someone had replaced his brain with pudding.
Dorian watched the whole thing with mounting amusement. He'd known Magnus for over twenty years.
