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Nicodemo's expression turned baleful at Larkin's mention of dinner. Bleeding hell, it was probably some affair of the State dinner to welcome back the mysteriously vanished but miraculously reappeared princess.

His best friend was a princess. Of an entire country. And not even the magical portion, though he'd like to know how the scum who had dragged them here explained that. Not to mention Larkin was now feeding the slimy royal vizier some cockamamie story about how Nico was her royal adviser, which meant he could be lugged out from whatever dank place they'd held him, and was now, for all intents and purposes, locked up in the cell masquerading as a suite.

He slowed and took a breath, realising being penned up like a bull was grating the worst on his nerves between the two situations, making it easy to want to lash out at Larkin. That, and his worry. Oh, certainly there had been adventures more fantastical than this—he actually had been held and chained in a deep, dark, dank prison cell, but it hadn't seemed… life-threatening, he supposed. There was danger, but it wasn't created by virtue of him being Nicodemo Penrose. He supposed, since Larkin was his family, and someone had wanted his family bad enough to set bounty hunters on her, he was having a bit of a panic attack. It was an alien feeling, and he wasn't dealing well with it, particularly since he'd been a bit blind-sighted.

Their friendship wasn't the sort that demanded divulgences of their every small secret, but even Nicodemo had to admit this was quite a large one to keep hidden. Being as he had never married a member of any royal family and then run away, he couldn't say for certain whether or not he'd have tried to keep it hidden.

Being, also, that he was a lackadaisical sort of fellow not very capable of deep, staying emotion, his annoyance blew over quite fast now that she was standing in front of him, trying to keep the story from spilling out. Had it been any other time, he thought, for any other reason, this might have been a very great adventure.

Nicodemo maintained the outward air with a scowl, and caught her chin a little too gently for a man in a snit. Scrutinising her face for signs of ill-treatment, of fear, or worry, he gruffly asked, "They hurt you?"