Alistair’s face flames in the way an untested boy’s would when faced with lovely young women. Damnit he’s a king. “I’m sorry. That was…that was terribly forward of me.” He says, and takes her hand, bowing over it to kiss her knuckles.

“Alistair Theirin, king of Ferelden, my lady. Forgive me for embarrassing you.” That’s better, you idiot. Make her think you have some class.

Amalthea inclined her head as she watched him curiously, she had met many kinds in her life. She had even saved one from dying of poisin, but never had one kissed her hand– well…. She didn’t have exactly hands then to kiss.

Humans valued names over titles, which is why she was called Amalthea instead of Unicorn, right? “Alistair Theirin, you need not apologize. You need not even be forgiven, I am not humiliated or embarrassed.”
Amalthea smiled and took her hand back.