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Kiera stifled a laugh as Jena lounged backwards in a position best described as daring, or precarious. This was a formal and semi-public occasion, the whole of House Targaryen present, so they couldn’t be too blatant. Not like Aelinor and Alys, flirting contendedly back and forth even as Alys held Rhaegel’s hand. It was a remarkably happy marriage, that one. Somehow, Rhaegel remained entirely content while knowing that his wife had bedded all his brothers’ wives, and Kiera too. He was the least jealous man Kiera had ever met.
She wasn’t, in truth, entirely sure how much the other men knew. She didn’t really care. In private, they did as they pleased. She had spent the most time with Jena, for she was always nearby, but she had bedded all of these women. Today, they smiled at each other and acted like they hadn’t tasted each other, while the King looked across the table at them. Kiera knew Jena would have energy to burn tonight. She looked forward to it.