with royal bearing

Insincere scorning of the man you hold most dear is always a slippery slope. First there's laughter, then lonesomeness; first indignation, then a painful self-denial.

Moreover, and most damningly, first there's ridicule, then ridiculous levels of attachedness that you just can't seem to shed.

Let me explain:

From looking at the standard uniforms of the key Tornan royals, High Prince Zettar and King Khanoro (step-siblings Chaghan and Ashigu were more seldom seen, as was Queen Altansarnai), in addition to the substantial, structured dress of the common folk populating Hyber and Auresco - even the formal appearance of Addam's wife, Flora, in contrast to her usual -, one never would have guessed that Prince Addam's chosen garb included the distinct lack of any coverage on the shoulder region.

Acromion, Minoth recalled, was the proper and overly, long-windedly archaic term. Well, that was the name for the bone poking around the back of the ball, but Minoth only tended toward the meticulous hoarding of medical knowledge like that when it suited him to appear witty and well-versed. Not very often anyone actually asked for a better word for "shoulder".

Not very often anyone actually thought about shoulders, except for whether they were, generally, narrow or broad; fair or burnt.

Addam's shoulders were broad (swimmers' shoulders, only he couldn't, for beans) and very, very fair, because they weren't that far into the summer yet, and he hadn't been farming in the heat for a little over a year now.

Minoth was allowed to know this, right? Allowed to just have stock of the situation, and surrounding characters, and what told what about when things were happening.

Allowed to take a peek, a gander, a look-see, at the prince's straight-backed stature, and the round, reasonable way his ear connected to his neck connected to his shoulder connected to his chest. The way the sun-weathered skin, practiced and seasoned over not so many years, almost glistened, offering a compromise image of what the charm point of his hands might look like, were they not hidden beneath his gloves, now hardily creased, one year on.

The way his bicep stretched the band on his smaller arm cuff (see, that was how he avoided looking entirely bald in the appendages, all clad up on either side) just taut, and then just a little more.

It was almost poetic. Maddeningly so. Perfectly designed, this unfathomable man, to drive a lonely man like Minoth insane.

Because if there was one thing Minoth wasn't, it was attracted to Addam's capable shoulders. Capable was the word because it could describe any number and manner of Tornan (and Urayan, and Ardainian) men and their collections of clavicular compatriots. How many Urayan mercenaries had he met with the standard smock and codpiece? He didn't walk around ogling them.

...which implied that he did walk around ogling Addam.

He definitely didn't, because Addam was a clueless schmuck, barely fit for his farm, dear of the people based on charm alone - and he definitely didn't have any of that. The Tornan people were just desparate for a star, and no one else who lived anywhere near Aureus had the makings.

Okay. Fine. He'd allow that Addam was handsome, just objectively. Remember all that schmaltz about ear, neck, chest, shoulder?

Always with the shoulders.

Was it so bad if Minoth wanted to lean?