*does not put the logical pieces together so much as sense something unmistakably familiar in your bearing, something that will not brook misremembering*
*with apparent confusion* Prince Maeglin. *almost bolts to his feet before it occurs to him that you've already taken a seat yourself* *considers what he knows about you but has not bothered looking into further for fear of what he might find: you are hated here (he knows what it is to be hated) and even the king will not tolerate you*
*swallows a tiny bit of uncharacteristic uncertainty before he continues (and it is not his place to question, but he is Salgant and therefore he will anyway)* So His Lusterless—pardon me—His Illustriousness the King has finally relented, has he?