The artwork above is not mine.

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    Aelin rose from her throne and came to stand before him. Rowan wasn't far behind. There was a disapproving glare in Rowan's pine green eyes, which Fenrys ignored. Aelin was his Queen, but she was also his friend. He would speak freely with her, as he always did.

    "I know we haven't had a chance to tell you how the trip went," Fenrys said, "but I'd think you'd be able to tell that Nascha and I don't exactly get along. And yet, you're commanding me to shadow her every footstep for the next six months? I've been struggling not to tear her throat out ever since we found her! Do you really think I'm the best person for this? She gets along with Lysandra just fine."

    Aelin grinned. "I thought you loved wild things, Fenrys. She seems wild enough to me."

    "She's not wild. She's selfish and arrogant."

    "We'll get along great, then."

    Fenrys dropped one hand to his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Can you just explain to me why you'd choose me to do this?"

    "You're the Ambassador of Terrasen. It's your duty to care for our guests and make sure they don't get into trouble while they're here."

    "I don't usually have to spend every waking minute with our guests."

    "You'll spend every non waking minute with her too."

    Fenrys blinked in disbelief. Rowan turned his face away, obviously hiding a smile. "You mean she's going to stay with me."

    Aelin nodded. "I said you will do everything with her and she won't leave your sight, so that she has no chance to leave Terrasen."

    "Tell me the real reason you're doing this. I know you have to have another reason."

    "It's your duty," Aelin replied with a shrug. Fenrys narrowed his eyes. "And I'm counting on you not getting along. We have to convince her to accept my terms. I don't think there's any hope of reaching another agreement with the Tarins. The sooner she accepts my terms, the sooner she can leave. The sooner she can leave, the sooner she can get away from you." Aelin gave him a prompting look.

    Fenrys turned her words over briefly, then smiled. "You want me to annoy her into submission."

    "Annoy. Irritate. Infuriate. Do whatever it takes. Use whatever methods you prefer. Just convince her to accept my terms."

    "Is this your way of telling me I'm annoying?"

    "It's my way of telling you that you have the ability to get under people's skin like no one else can."

    "Do you think this will work?" Rowan asked. "I'm not doubting Fenrys' ability to annoy someone. I know firsthand how skilled you are at that." Fenrys rolled his eyes. "Nascha seems very convinced that she does not want to become Lady of Arcelia. There has to be a reason why. A good one, if she's willing to risk war to avoid taking her place."

    Aelin rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose we'll just have to see. Good luck, Fenrys. Oh, and it's best if you don't give away her identity to anyone you meet. Not yet."

    Fenrys waited for further explanation, but there was none. Aelin just gazed at the floor, rubbing her fingers together thoughtfully. He took that as a dismissal and bowed his head. "If I accidentally kill her, or vice versa, you can't hold me accountable. Remember, this was your idea."

    "I'm sure you won't let me forget," Aelin chuckled. Fenrys gave her a sideways grin and ducked out the door.

    His smile faded as he caught sight of Nascha, still waiting with Lorcan and Aedion. She crossed her arms, glaring at him coldly. "Please tell me the Queen has come to her senses and is letting me leave."

    "No such luck, your Ladyship." Fenrys took her by the shoulder and steered her down the hall, aware of Lorcan and Aedion's curious gazes following them.

    "Don't call me that," Nascha snapped. "And where are you taking me?"

    "Somewhere you can take a proper shower, eat something, and get a little sleep."

    "A shower?"

    "Don't they have showers in the Southern Continent?" Nascha didn't answer. "I am about to change your life for the better."

    "I highly doubt that."

    They carried on in tense silence until they left the palace and entered the courtyard. Fenrys reached into his well of magic and envisioned his cabin. When he stepped through the folds of the world, he brought Nascha with him. Wind roared around them, quieting once they arrived at the cabin.

    Nascha twisted and shoved Fenrys away, her eyes wide. Talons grew from her nails and she reached towards her empty sheath with one hand. "What did you just do? Where are we?"

    "Relax." Fenrys brushed past her, entering the cabin. "This is my home. That was a part of my magic. It allows me to slip between the folds of the world, arriving at different locations in a matter of minutes. Sometimes, seconds."

    "I've only heard stories about such powers."

    "Connall and I both have that ability. Are you going to come in or stand there gawking all night?"

    Nascha retracted her talons and stormed past him. "When can I have my weapons back?"

    "When I know you won't use them against me." Fenrys closed the door and drifted deeper into the house. And when I remember to ask Aedion for them, he added to himself.

    "I'm not a murderer."

    "You're not, but you are desperate. Desperate people do desperate things."

    Nascha sat on the edge of a chair, crossing her arms. "Your Queen must be desperate if she's holding me hostage."

    "You're not a hostage."

    "Oh, right. I'm a guest who's not allowed to leave. There's not much of a difference, in my opinion."

    Fenrys kicked his boots off by the door and sat down across from her, narrowing his eyes. "You can leave as soon as you accept Aelin's terms. Until then, you are under my supervision. Unfortunately for you, Aelin made her command through the blood oath, so I am bound to obey it. We are going to be spending a lot of time together. I suggest you get used to the idea." Nascha continued to glare as he rose and set to work pulling together a quick meal.

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    Nascha drummed her nails on the wooden surface of the table, staring at Fenrys' back. From the tension in his shoulders, it was clear that he knew she was watching him. It was also clear that neither of them were happy with Aelin's arrangement in the slightest.

    "I don't think your Queen has thought this through," Nascha said at last. "I'm bound to need things sooner or later that you don't have. Such as clothes that will fit me. These ones still smell like shit, thanks to you."

    "Thanks to you," he corrected, without looking up from the stew he was making. "I suppose it's my job to make sure you have what you need."

    Nascha huffed in amusement. "The Queen is the one keeping me here. I think it's her duty more than yours. I wouldn't accept anything from you anyway."

    Fenrys glanced back at her, his onyx eyes growing darker. "You won't inconvenience Aelin any more than you already have just out of petty spite. She's trying to be fair, but she has a kingdom to think about. Terrasen is more important than your selfish desires."

    "Selfish desires? Is it selfish of me to want to remain free?" Nascha retorted.

    "It's selfish of you to refuse to do your part in helping Terrasen remain peaceful and united."

    "I offered to talk to Rayan and Eliora, but I will not become Lady of Arcelia. Nothing will make me change my mind."

    Fenrys gave her a cold smile. "Then when Terrasen is ravaged by war once again, and your people lie dead, killed by their brethren, I hope you know that you will be the only one to blame." He jerked his head towards a hallway. "My room is back there. Grab a shirt and pants. Whatever you need. I think you'll survive wearing something of mine for a few days until arrangements are made."

    "Isn't the blood oath going to make you follow me?" Nascha sneered. "I might try to escape through a window."

    Fenrys thumped a spoon down on the counter and faced her. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. Nascha breezed past him and turned down the hallway. She was aware of his quiet footsteps echoing hers. Nascha found the bedroom with little difficulty. Fenrys hovered in the doorway while she rooted through the drawers of his dresser. Finally, she found something that might fit, and could easily be forced to if it didn't.

    Nascha shoved past him again. Fenrys pointed to a door across the hall. "Bathroom," he grunted.

    "You are not following me in there," she said.

    "No, I'm not. There are no windows for you to escape out of. I will, however, be checking on you every few minutes. Don't even think about shifting or trying to attack me with your magic when I return." Fenrys turned, then paused. "Oh, and there's no lock on the door."

    "Yes, there i..." Nascha ground her teeth together as Fenrys pried the knob off the door.

    "No," he said. "There's not." The door slammed shut behind him, hard enough to rattle the items on the counter.

    Nascha threw his clothes on the floor and dug her fingers into her hair, screaming through a clenched jaw. She remained hunched over and fuming for several minutes. When her anger abated, she straightened.

    Nascha pulled a curtain aside, expecting to see a bathtub. Instead, she was met by mostly bare walls and a floor that sloped down toward a drain. Two knobs jutted out of one wall. Higher up, there was an odd metal disk full of holes. A few shelves extended from the adjoining wall, holding bottles of soap.

    She turned one knob hesitantly. Water erupted from the disk overhead. Nascha gasped, then stuck her hand under the water. It was cold. She turned the other knob and presently, the water grew warmer. Nascha smiled despite herself. She peeled off her dirty clothes and stepped into the shower.

    The water was deliciously warm and the pressure from the thin streams soothed her aching muscles. Nascha stood there a few minutes, simply marveling at the shower. Water pooled around her feet but was sucked away by the drain before it could spill over the raised lip that separated the shower from the floor.

    Finally, Nascha took one of the bottles of soap. She eyed the title of the fragrance, rolling her eyes, but poured it into her hands and hurriedly cleaned herself. It didn't take as long to rinse the soap from her hair and body in the shower as it did in a bathtub.

    Nascha turned the water off and stepped out once more. She found a towel in the cabinet beneath the sink and hurriedly dried herself off, before pulling on Fenrys' clothes. The pants were too loose, but she fixed that with her old belt. She partially tucked the hem of her shirt into the waistband of the pants.

    I can't wait to have clothes that fit me, Nascha thought. And don't smell like Fenrys. The scent of mist, heather, and oak clung to his clothes. It wasn't unpleasant, but she didn't want to be constantly reminded of whose clothes she was wearing.

    Nascha left the bathroom just as Fenrys was approaching. A savory scent reached her nose, but her stomach twisted with nervous anger. "Where will I sleep?" She asked.

    "Not hungry?"

    "No."

    "The floor or my bed."

    Nascha narrowed her eyes. "And where do you intend to sleep?"

    Fenrys crossed his arms, mirroring her expression. "My bed. This is my house, after all. I don't have to give things up just because you have an unnecessary sense of propriety."

    "The floor will be fine then," she spat. "Do you have spare blankets?"

    "No. I don't usually have visitors." Fenrys smirked. "I doubt you'll find the floor very comfortable."

    "I am not sharing a bed with you."

    "I recall you saying that you wouldn't share a bed with me, or Aedion, Lorcan, and Vaughan, for a king's ransom. I assume that sentiment extends to a queen's ransom too." He leaned towards her, his smirk only growing. "So you can rest assured, your Ladyship. No one is paying you to share my bed. You're doing it for free."

    Nascha couldn't stop herself. She grabbed him by the shirt and drove her fist beneath his ribs. Fenrys gagged and a grin spread across her lips. A heartbeat later, Fenrys' leg was hooked behind her knee. He gave a sharp jerk and Nascha hit the floor with a dull thud. She coughed as the air was knocked from her lungs.

    Fenrys bent over her, baring his teeth in a snarl. "Two can play at that game, your Ladyship." He vanished from sight, leaving her to recollect herself.