yarrr, ye scurvy boy-king, halt ye whinin'

It was a long story she told him after that, for all that there was much of it that she left out; yet she thought that Tor probably guessed some of the more bitter things, for he asked her many questions, yet none that she might not have been able to answer, like what face Agsded had worn, or what her second parting from Luthe had been. (...)

Tor had been king less than three years when he was first called the Just, for the even-handedness of his wisdom; a wisdom, they said, that was never cold, and that sat strangely in the eyes of a man not yet forty. Aerin knew where some of that old wisdom came from, for she had first seen it in the afternoon that he had told her she should be queen, had asked her to marry him; the same afternoon that he had not asked her about Luthe. She hoped that she might never be careless of Tor's feelings: Tor, who had been her best friend all her life, and sometimes her only friend. Perhaps the memory of the rock of Maur's despair made her a little forgetful too, for she began to think of the wide silver lake as a place she had visited only in dreams, and of the tall blond man she had once known as a creature of those dreams; for the not quite mortal part of her did sleep, that she might love her country and her husband.

from The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley