Something in her settles at the feel of their energies aligning. Hers. The motion of her fingers on his shoulder should hopefully be soothing. She doesn't dare preen his actual feathers in public.

"You are a man to be envied, Sokratis," the prince toasts them both. "If I marry at all, it will likely not be with such affection as you have with your wife."

Kreyu goes through her mental list of who's who. "You are the youngest of eight living sons, if I recall correctly?"

Ajax chuckles. "I am indeed, Lady Kreyu. And the one my honorable father has made it clear he finds a disappointment in every sense of the word." Ajax's tone is light, joking, but there are echoes there of old pain.