Author's Note: Hey, just wanted to drop in with a quick note, and check in with my readers. I'm still trucking along with this story, and I feel now's a good time to ask what everyone's initial impression of some of the main characters are right now! Feel free to give me your thoughts down below, and enjoy the next chapter into this story.

Michel arrives promptly at four o'clock to guide Annalei to the dining room. He bows deeply when she sweeps open the door. "You look simply divine tonight, Your Highness." He winks as he compliments her. Her dress is a dark navy blue sewn with lines of sparkling white stones and glinting platinum gold. It has a plunging neckline and wing-like sleeves that fall open at the shoulder, leaving her arms bare but surrounded in swaths of cloth. The sleeves are made from a shimmering periwinkle fabric that drapes around her like a built in cape, framing her lithe body and accentuating her waist. Her recently washed hair gleams like starlight in the dim lighting of the hallway.

She smiles broadly, and offers her hand to Michel. He allows her to place it gently on his arm as he guides her forward. She revels in the respect she feels from the man, and knows Xeraxes won't be able to ignore her regal bearing now. As they work their way through the hallway and back onto the first floor, she turns to Michel. "Sometimes all it takes is a little bath to prove what true royalty looks like." She tells him, smirking.

Michel grimaces. "Your Highness, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but.." He trails off, hesitant to continue. Michel knows all too well the capriciousness of the ruling class, and guest or no, Annalei could do serious damage if she takes his statement the wrong way. He likes the girl, so he can't help but to warn her. "You may want to re-evaluate your assessment of King Xeraxes. I know your country is not fond of dragons, but I think you'll find-"

Her eyes flash, her anger peeking out from behind her calm demeanor for just a moment. "Please, Michel. I don't need to be lectured by someone that's used to being around them. You might be able to see human qualities in the beasts, but I'll never be so mistaken."

Michel breathes a deep sigh. "As you wish, Your Highness." It is not up to him if she continues to live her life consumed by her own hatred and fear. He recognizes that this arrangement will most likely be for her own betterment as much as he hopes it will be for Xeraxes as well. Naturally, he keeps these thoughts to himself, deep within his chest.

They arrive in the dining hall, and it is empty except for Xeraxes sitting at the opposite end of a long table. Multiple dishes on silver platters stretch across the length of the table, but he makes no move to eat any of it. Instead, a large platter filled with raw meat sits in front of him, and Annalei can see the pool of bright crimson blood that sits beneath it from where she's standing. The candlelight dances across the sanguine liquid like golden sparks.

He lifts a strip of the meat to his mouth, tilting back his head and allowing the pink flesh to slip from his fingers and disappear between his lips. He chews thoughtfully, sighing deeply. "Sit down." He motions towards Annalei. She slides into the chair nearest her, her stomach churning as she watches the dragon-man snap up another slice of meat. He looks at her, and even from a distance his orange-yellow eyes glow with a malicious delight. She wonders if he's enjoying that his grotesque eating habits make her uncomfortable. Michel has disappeared from view, and she's left alone in the room with what she considers a dangerous and volatile beast.

She pulls the nearest dish closer to herself, and is relieved to see fully cooked chicken breast, sliced into even, perfect slices resting on top of a bed of greens. She takes a little of both, then takes a tentative taste of the sauce sitting beside it. She determines it's a slightly sweet dressing made from honey and a bitter yellow herb she isn't sure she's had before. She arranges a bite of the greens, chicken, and sauce on top of some freshly made bread close at hand, then takes a taste of it. The chicken is cooked to perfection, both tender and juicy, and seasoned well. The greens are bitter, but both the yeasty flavor of the bread and the sweetness of the sauce cover it well. A servant appears from around her shoulder and fills her goblet up with wine. She hesitates, not normally fond of any alcohol, but a small sip doesn't hurt, and helps to wash down her food.

She eats in silence, until she cleans the food she took onto her plate. Xeraxes has polished off the majority of the mountain of meat that was initially presented to him, and she's disgusted by his gluttony. Still, he hasn't tried to make any conversation, and for that she's grateful. After a few minutes of sitting in front of an empty plate and half-full wine glass, she clears her throat, with the intention of excusing herself. Xeraxes raises a clawed hand, stopping her from speaking.

"Just a moment, princess. Before you leave, I'd like to ask you something." He wipes his hands on a cloth napkin, leaving bloody streaks across its cream colored fabric. Rising to his feet, he walks across the room, his head lowered, horns facing her menacingly. He stops only inches away from her still not meeting her eyes, which she finds truly odd, as he towers over her.

He moves quickly and sharply towards her, and Annalei feels gravity abandon her and cascades into a freefall backwards. Xeraxes has whipped her chair out from under her with a strong tug with his foot on one of the chair legs. He catches her chair, his hand gripping tightly on the headrest, the wood creaking painfully. Xeraxes' eyes are now level with hers as he leers over her. She presses herself back further in the chair, her eyes frantically looking for some escape. He breathes a heavy gust of steam in her face, and she tries not to gag on the smell of meat that lingers on his tongue. His pupils are narrowed down to slits, and she can feel the rage rolling off of him in waves.

"Tell me, princess. Just who does that fat bastard Harland think he is? Did he really think he could send some pretty girl in place of his daughter and it would be enough to placate me? If he means to renege on our contract, I'll send him your pretty little head on a spike." He pauses, and Annalei wonders if he can hear the way her heart is hammering in her chest. She's angry, but too afraid to speak. "If you value your life, you had best begin giving me a reason to spare it." He leans forward, letting his long, pointed tongue loll out of his mouth. He licks the side of her face along her jawline, and Annalei whimpers, holding back a scream. If she is about to die, she thinks to herself, she is going to do it with dignity.

Xeraxes leans in close, breathing heavily on her neck. "I think you had better start talking. I'm not going to eat you. Not yet, anyway." He draws back again, pulling her chair along with her, reducing the angle that she was tilted back at, then releases the front legs of the chair to the floor and pulls another chair around for himself. He lowers his bulk into the chair, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands folded loosely in front of him. His stare reminds her of the way a hawk looks at a rabbit it's about to have for dinner.

She swallows hard, hoping that whatever she says will please him, though she knows it won't. "Xeraxes, I don't know what anyone told you, but I am the Crown Princess of Faraley, Annalei Leonin. I know you may choose not to believe that, but it is who I am." She hardens her resolve when she can see he clearly does not believe her. "And if you harm me in any way, my father will not rest until your head is mounted above his mantle. We have plenty of gold in our treasury to offer quite the bounty for your scaly hide." She spits out. She can make threats too, no matter how empty they feel.

His lips curl up in a roguish grin, showing off his elongated canines. He shakes his head, a chuckle rising up from deep in his belly, then growing into a ringing laugh that echoes off the walls of the dining hall. He jumps up from his chair, sending it toppling backwards, then lunges towards Annalei. He doesn't lay a hand on her, but she hears the armrests of the chair crack under her hands. She bites down hard on her lip, smothering the yelp that rose in her throat.

"You're going to have to try harder than that to convince me. You're no Leonin. Where's your birthmark? The Lion's Paw? They couldn't even bother to draw it on your face, and still sent you to me. Why?" He shouts, spitting his questions out at her.

She winces away from him, and tears of frustration threaten to fall down her face. "I don't know why I didn't inherit my father's birthmark! You have to understand, please. Do you really think my father would lie to you? Do you think we have such little respect for our allies? We're at war, Xeraxes. We're desperate." She wants to add that her father must be truly desperate to send her away to such an awful creature, but instead, she lets her eyes fall down to his hands. The veins and tendons are rigid, and look like the twisting of roots underneath the ochre-brown earth of his skin. She watches his fingers twitch, then flex against the ruined wooden arm rests. After a time, his hands and fingers relax, but the threat of his sharp black claws still looms.

"A Leonin without the Lion's Paw, and hair lighter than morning sunlight? Well, if your story holds true, then you're quite the oddity." He moves quick as a flash, and snatches up her chin in his hand. His fingers cup around the entirety of her lower face, making her tilt it up toward him. His pupils have relaxed into narrow ovals instead of slits, and she hopes it's a sign that he's relaxed somewhat. "However, don't think I trust you for a minute, princess. And yes, I do think King Harland would lie to me. Your people have lied to my people time and time again, chasing us out of our ancestral lands and destroying our nests. Then all the while promising us that this time, they want to make amends."

He released her, stepping back from her and turning away. She sighs deeply, and mutters to herself. "If only Father knew what you were and how you've treated me."

Xeraxes chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, he knows what I am, princess. And it appears he's taught you exactly how much to hate me before you even arrived, with the threats you've leveled against me."

"Well, you've not exactly done anything to redeem yourself." She spits back at him. She's pretty sure that he isn't going to kill her, for now. She's not sure how easy his mind will change though.

"And why should I? Even if I was perfectly pleasant with you, you'd still hate me. It's what you humans do." His voice, for a moment, almost sounds sad, but it quickly regains its heated passion. "You constantly have to convince yourselves you're superior to everyone around you, because you fear being inadequate." He turns to face her again, this time crouching down instead of looming over her. She's halfway convinced Xeraxes is crazy, but keeps whatever biting remark comes to her mind to herself.

She wonders briefly if he's right, and she's been terribly mistaken in her understanding of dragons. Surely, they can't be more than beasts motivated by greed and hunger alone, like she's always been told. But as Xeraxes meets her eyes with his own, she catches a glimpse of a deep pain she cannot name. Her heart skips a beat when his face softens, the dark heavy brow no longer pinched together in anger, his lips relaxing out of the thin line he'd been holding them in. He has a pleasant, near feline grace to his face when he's not in a fit of anger, she notices.

"I do hope for your sake you're not lying to me, princess. I'd hate to have to hurt you because an arrogant king thought he could lie to me. I am not as gullible as my ancestors were, and I will take what is my right." Annalei had nothing left to say to him as he stands up and leaves her, and she realizes she went a long time in between each breath. Once she's sure he is gone, she gets up from her chair and sprints up to her room, tears streaming down her face.