Insufferably Perfect

“Brother, I have something of a question for you.”
Cliff looked up, setting aside the leather he was cleaning.
“Is that so?”
The Prince of Knives and Thorns leaned against the wall of the stables tossing one of his many throwing knives lightly in one hand.
“I have noticed, of late, that you spend a great deal of time with my sister. More than I would think to see between friends. And I have seen, once or twice, a form I believe to be hers sneaking out of your chambers of an evening.”
Eyes wide, Cliff could feel his cheeks going hot. Keeping his eyes on that knife, he stood.
“None of that was a question, you know.”
The Prince chuckled, catching his knife by the hilt in a smooth motion.
“Then I will speak plainly. Are you and my sister involved romantically?”
Lying would be stupid, far more stupid than admitting to what was quite obviously there. Even if it was looking more and more likely he was about to be turned into the Prince’s personal pin cushion. Then, much to Cliff’s surprise, the Prince sheathed the knife completely and stepped in to give him a hug.
“Good! You too are insufferably perfect for each other and I had been bereft thinking neither of you had noticed!”


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