Triumph in having guessed correctly was tempered by attention paid to his repositioning. Had she less experience in dealing with stubborn men disinclined to show that they were in pain, Natalia would have remained as oblivious as he might have liked to his injury's continued effect. Unaware that she would be unable to use a fonic arte during the daylight hours, Natalia was sorely tempted to cast Heal. She felt more than negligent in leaving it while conversing with him, but had yet to find an appropriate lull to fill with the spoken verse.

Further, what he said distracted her. There was triumph, after all. She spoke with the king, and felt more at ease. Natalia loved her people, and would not think less of commoners, not under any condition. Yet, the responsibilities and concerns of the royalty, moreso than even the nobility, were unique to them. She had known him for only a few minutes, but Natalia was confident that Edgar was a wonderful king.

"You pay me a great compliment to say as much," she answered, not flushed, only sincere. "I've striven to advise the king, and to serve the people, but I am only the princess, and have not yet born the same burdens as my father. My, but," Natalia giggled, "you do look young to be king! Younger than Emperor Peony of Malkuth, I'm sure."

Turning a speculative eye toward him, Natalia tried to deduce his age. Peony looked younger than he was--and at times, certainly acted it, she remembered with a brief thinning of her lips. It hardly mattered; she shook the irrelevant question from her.

"I'm afraid," she noted, now looking to her refolded hands, the sharp pain following Jade's slap fresh in that moment, as if her cheek still burned, "I've had a penchant for relying too much on others. It is at that point, you must agree, that there can be no excuse."