So, she overheard his father tell one of the ladies, no doubt invited specifically to meet the youngest Asgersen Prince, "Naturally Tor will continue his role in the military."
"No." Blythe may have spoken quite loudly and inserted herself into a conversation she was not party too.
And she did not care.
"You aren't reenlisting, are you?" she asked Tor, begging him with everything in her to say no.
The past two years had been torture as his elite unit went on one dangerous mission after another. Most of which, did not allow any sort of communication with the outside world.
"It is tradition," Prince Canute said before Tor could answer. "Naturally, my youngest son will keep his place in the Tapt Oyerian Military."
"As a prince, it would be a nominal role, I'm sure." This from the other woman, who Blythe may or may not have been introduced to.
She could not remember, nor could she make herself care. The woman simply had no idea. Tor did not understand the concept of nominal service, much less have any inkling of adhering to it.
"To…Prince Tor?" Blythe asked the man himself for confirmation, stumbling over his name like she never did in company.
"If I were to remain an officer in our military," Tor said in a tone that said nothing about which way he was leaning in that regard. "It would be in the same capacity as before I left for active service."
"If?" His father asked, his brows beetled. "There is no if. It is your duty."
Tor did not direct his reply to Prince Canute, but kept his gaze locked with Blythe's, though it was clear his words were meant as much for his father as for her. "My duty is to the Crown as a prince. How I live out that duty is between me and my Sovereign. King Holger."
The addition of his brother's name had been unnecessary from the point of view of feelings, but Tor no longer had the habit of leaving any room for misinterpretation of his words. Unless he had a specific agenda in doing so.
His father should realize that, but Prince Canute blanched, clearly wounded by the reminder he was no longer the king.
Tor's eyes narrowed, like the older man's reaction surprised him, but he made no effort to soften the effect of his words.
And Blythe didn't think that was because he still held resentment for the way Prince Canute had abdicated parental responsibility for Tor long before abdicating the throne.
Tor just wasn't that man any longer. He wasn't the charming, affable peace maker he'd been when they'd first met.
The change had been happening all along, but the last two years had cemented it.
Tor did not indulge in other people's drama. He said what he meant and he expected others to accept his words at face value.
Blythe was fairly certain that whatever role he would be asked to fill in his duty to the Crown, it would not be as a diplomat or ambassador.
Not if King Holger wanted to maintain smooth relations with his allies and business associates.
His father made an excuse and left, the woman who had been hoping to catch Tor's interest following suit moments later when it was clear she had failed completely in that endeavor.
"Dance with me," Tor said, putting his hand out to Blythe.
She wanted to take his hand more than anything, gripping her own together to stop herself. "But no one else is dancing."
"They will, if we do."
"It's not that kind of party."
"There is a live orchestra. Of course it is that kind of party."
But it wasn't. And they both knew it.
It was a welcome home reception. Being held in a ballroom with plenty of floor space for dancing for those inclined.
Blythe skimmed the room, seeking insight into what to do. Tor's hand remained reaching out to her.