He heard the clear implication in the elven prince's words, and Riley fought the sudden urge to blurt out that to him it sounded less like a clever plan to cure homesickness and more like the fast lane to an early grave.
But he was trying to be professional. Welcoming. Amicable.
So instead he tilted his head just slightly, adding a trace of curiosity to his expression, as if he were the picture of open-minded wonder and hopefulness.
And to be fair, a part of it was genuine. He really felt hopeful about this lead. It really felt like things were moving, however slowly. Like a snail pushing a wagon uphill, but moving nonetheless.
"Then, Your Highness," Riley asked carefully, "is there any chance you'd tell him?"
Rowan's smile curved faintly, and he leaned closer, lowering his voice as if this was some intimate confession.
