The meeting had left her both physically and mentally exhausted. She did harbour some ill feelings towards Augustus after the way he had responded to her. She had thought the two of them got along well, but he had put her in her place so clearly in front of everyone. He had dismissed her ideas and her support of the Allemeade. She was still seated in the same seat as before, just staring at the wall, barely registering that Augustus was moving around, and that the others had left.

When he spoke, she turned her head in his direction. The casual tone in his voice almost made her roll her eyes, but she didn't. Her face was less friendly and bright than the way he knew her, though. He had been clear about how he felt about Remiel. This casual question wasn't as casual as he tried to make it seem.

"I don't see how that's relevant to my duties and orders, your Highness", she responded dryly.

Augustus leaned back against his desk so that he was perched on the edge of it, palms resting on the lip as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Your Highness.” After all the times she’d called him Augustus, it certainly felt like a slight. Ignoring her flat demeanor, he smirked at her.

“It seemed relevant to you just now when you spoke on his behalf. Relevant enough for you to stake your title and honor on your endorsement of his character." The prince tilted his head. "One does not do that lightly."

She had been maintaining eye contact until he mentioned her title and honor. She shrugged slightly, looking at the table. The pattern of the wood was suddenly much more interesting. "I didn't know about the children, or his romantic endeavours with the Eldouir. Even then, I do still feel like he should be allowed to help us, without collar." She looked back at Augustus. "But I don't have the energy to fight for my belief. I'll just listen and do what I'm told." She was truly exhausted, it wouldn't be hard to tell. She had believed in something for just a little while, and now even that didn't seem certain anymore.

Something shifted in Augustus. Something angry and bitter surfaced on his face—a spark flashing in the fire. “Do what your told?” Augustus repeated sourly, “You think that’s what I want from you? Even without armor, you’re a soldier—a fight is what I want from you, I just remember when we stopped being on the same side.” He poured another drop of whiskey and tossed it back, starting to pace about the room the way Scout had seen him do a dozen times before.

His anger was contagious, and the blonde looked up at him with an annoyed frown. "I would argue that me admitting I didn't know these things about Remiel and standing down enforces the fact that we are on the same side." His pacing made her nervous, but she tried not to pay attention to it. "If it's a fight you want, then out with it. What has got you so worked up? I'm with you on the Eldouir issues. I've suggested ideas and told everyone I would remain in the city to help out where I can. So, what is it?"

“Remiel...” Augustus repeated, emphasizing her use of his first name, as his footsteps slowed, “There it is again.” He leaned forward on the table, smirking but still with an angry glint in his eye. “And why is he at your estate? Hasn't he a perfectly good farm of his own?”

A smirk appeared on her lips. "Ah, so you take personal offence that lord Allemeade and I get along?" She reverted back to calling him lord Allemeade instead of Remiel, to keep tempers from rising further. She leaned back while he leaned forward. "He does have a good farm, but when the Eldouir invaded, my uncle asked for someone to fetch lord Allemeade. Which I did. Birkhall and the Kane lands are a little far from the city. My estate is close." She folded her hands on the table. "I'm sorry, am I prohibited from interacting with lord Allemeade, Augustus?" she asked.

Augustus wished he could wipe that smirk off her face. He just might. His smirk assumed a more dangerous quality as he raised an eyebrow. “Interacting? Is that the word we’re using?”

It was a crude accusation, but he made it.

She frowned again, cocking her head to the side. "I really fail to see the issue, or how the nature of our friendship concerns you."

So she didn’t deny it. Augustus took that as a confirmation, surely. Remiel Allemeade had demonstrated that he was wholly incapable of keeping his hands to himself. That, and the fact he was staying at her estate, that, and he’d engendered a deep loyalty in Scout Kane that had seemingly sprung from nowhere. There was only one thing that tied all the pieces together: even if she hadn’t acted upon it, there was more than friendship between Scout and Remiel. And it soured the prince’s tongue. After a moment, he pushed himself away from the table, expression going cold.

“I’d rather thought we’d more understanding between us than this—but if you wish me to not concern myself with your welfare, so be it,” the prince went to his desk, pouring himself some more whiskey, though this time sipping it, “My only advice?” He turned, “Take care with the company you keep.”

A certain softness came over her, her gaze was no longer completely serious and cold. She got up from her seat and walked around the table, approaching Augustus. She would try to take his glass of whiskey to put it down besides him.

"Augustus", she said, her voice kind and with a hint of that familiarity. The way she would talk to him in better times. "I appreciate your concern, and I appreciate that you always look out for me. But although I would have liked it under different circumstances, we," she gestures from him to herself, "can't happen. I don't know if it's jealousy, or genuine concern, but I am not dumb and you know this. If Remiel proves to be a threat, I won't associate with him anymore, but I know him. I genuinely believe he's not the man he once was."

And there it was. The unspeakable truth spoken in plain terms, flung between them like the carcass of a dead but beloved pet. Augustus was disgusted to be confronted with the shame of it. That he, a prince of Lorendale, was motivated by something so base as jealousy—and even worse, rejection. He clenched his jaw, spitting anger intensifying to cold fury. The look in Augustus’s eyes hardened as he was quiet for a long, long moment.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” He said quietly, “I have always valued your counsel, but if mine is not valued in return, so be it.” He turned to his desk, his back to Scout as he poured himself another drink.

“You are free to go.”