Chapter 6

"I have to say, Princess Lucia, the last few days have beenenlightening," King Lothbrook says. He rolls up the sleeves of his white tunic, revealing muscular forearms covered in black streaking tattoos. Those tattoos travel up his arms, over his chest, and onto his neck.

I've only seen tattoos a few times in my entire life-they're not in a fashion much among the fae so the ones I have seen are much smaller than the one that the King wears on his skin. I can't help but be curious as to what picture they make. Some sort of symbols?

"Enlightening in what way?" I ask him. Anxiety tightens my stomach and I force my eyes away from the King's shrouded tattoos.

"To begin with, I've learned much more about a certain Seelie Princess than I ever planned to."

At the Shifter King's words, my heart stutters wildly in my chest. The airlocks in my lungs for an uncomfortable moment. What did he discover while I was unconscious? Does he know I'm not my sister, the heir to the Seelie throne? But no, there's no way to explain why I'm still alive if he's realized that holding me isn't as valuable of a leverage point as he'd thought I was when he stole me from the palace gardens.

I've heard enough stories of the vicious shifter monsters preying on innocents to know that they're more likely to kill me than continue to keep me hostage if I'm not worth as much as they think. If he knew my life didn't hold as much weight as he suspects it does, he would have let me die from fever in the dungeons.

When I don't respond, the King's sharp smile grows wider, a predator circling his prey.

He takes a slow, measured step in my direction, head cocking to the side. After a long assessing look, his hand dips into his trouser pocket. There's a glint of blue as he tosses an object toward me. I flinch at the sudden unexpected motion until a little corked bottle lands lightly in the exact center of my lap.

I can barely breathe when he speaks next. His voice is like a shadow-unassuming on the surface but with a dark undercurrent, "Tell me, Princess, how long have you been ill?"

I can't take my eyes off the familiar blue glass bottle clutched between my fingers. I twist the smooth cool surface between my suddenly clammy fingertips, "You got my medicine."

"Yes, I can't exactly have my hostage dying on me. It would negate the point." He informs me dryly.

"The point being?"

"Leverage, of course."

I suddenly feel exhausted-and that exhaustion seeps into my voice, "Leverage to do what, exactly?"

His sharp smile grows, "What would be the fun if I just tell you?"

His sharp smile drops away, and without another word, he turns back on me to exit through the door he had entered through.

Before he can take a step though, I call out, "How did you know?"

He pauses in his tracks, turning to look over his shoulder at me. His dark eyebrows arch in question.

My cheeks warm under that intense questioning gaze, "About my medicine, I mean. And how did you get it? This is the same bottle that was sitting in my room."

He doesn't respond with words, just a tsking sound as if it's ridiculous that I should ask. "I have my ways," He reaches for the door handle, "Anything else you'd like to make your stay more enjoyable, Princess?" The sarcasm in his voice is thick, "As you know, I live to please."

I bristle at the connotations behind that statement-as if my medicine is a luxury item rather than something I need to live from one day to the next. Not to mention the streak of annoyance that zings through me at his continual avoidance of giving me a single straightforward answer to any of my questions since I've been here.

I lean back into the plush pillows tucked behind my back and purse my lips. I tap a finger thoughtfully to my chin as if I'm seriously considering his sarcastic question, "Hmmwell, I wouldn't say no to some chocolates. And I'd like some flowers brought in to brighten things up around here since I don't have a window. Everything is just so *gray*, you know? And if I'm going to be stuck in bed for a while, I'd appreciate a few books-you do have *books* here don't you?" The King's eyes narrow, darkening at my sarcasm, but I ignore that, voice brightening as I'm struck by another thought, "Oh!-and a harp! Do you have a harp stashed away somewhere around here that you can bring in for me?"

His lip curls in annoyance, and I blink in surprise as a flash of yellow sparks through his black eyes, "Demanding little thing, aren't you?"

I widen my eyes ingratiatingly, all faux innocence, "I don't know what you mean." I don't know where I get the nerve to antagonize a King let alone a king of *monsters*. Being on the brink of dying should have given me more self-preservation than this, but unfortunately, it seems to have the opposite effect. I feel a little reckless.

Still, as he blinks at me, I silently wonder if I've gone too far. If he's the vindictive type of person that my father is. Half of me worries that he'll cross the room and take the bottle of medicine back for my impudence. Tossing it into the fire while he laughs. Or maybe he'll send me back to the dungeons. That's something my father, the Seelie King, would do in his position. My father doesn't tolerate any modicum of disrespect in his presence.

To my everlasting shock, Commander Lothbrook doesn't do any of those things. He lifts an eyebrow sardonically, a strong pale face settling back into a bland mask. His black eyes are bright, though, something flickering just below the surface-amusement? "Unfortunately, prisoners don't get to make demands. Someone will be up with food for you later."

He turns to leave through the door for the second time but pauses with his hand hovering over the handle. He doesn't say anything for a single dragged-out silent moment, then sighs as if he's been arguing against himself and lost. His voice is a low rumble as he asks, "What do you want a harp for anyway?" It's like he can't help but ask-like the question is being ripped from an open wound.

I grin slowly, letting my eyes fall closed as I fall back against the pillow, "Bring one and I'll be sure to tell you."