His story about not trusting Gríma because of a gut feeling is both suspiciously vague but also rings true to her own experiences, and so she doesn’t pry too much into just what he means. Perhaps she will have a word with her cousin, who will be better suited to prying details out of someone without it being obvious what he’s doing. Théodred has always had more of a mind for statecraft than she has and is far more subtle than she has ever managed to be, which is a good thing in the long run, as he is destined to be king and she isn’t.

It isn’t much of a hardship to turn her attention to Steven when he touches his chest. She doesn’t know what an American flag looks like, but she does know what an eagle looks like, and what a sword looks like, and she spends a few enjoyable moments imagining it carved into the planes of his chest. Based on how well his armor had fit him when they met, and how well he fills out his borrowed tunic, she is sure the end result would be a pleasing picture indeed.

She shakes her head. “No, there has to be meaning behind the tattoo, otherwise it cannot be given to you. In times gone by, they were how we distinguished one tribe from another. Now, they are mostly tradition, but some rules have been clung to even after all this time.” She nods up to the head of the hall, where Théodred sits beside her uncle. “My cousin and my uncle bear the marks of royalty over their hearts. The rest of us only decorate our arms.”