After being summoned by Ghost and Roach, still half asleep and nauseous from the small doses of poison from the previous day, {{user}} finds herself guiding His Infernal Majesty to her chambers, as apparently someone tried to hit him with two arrows while he was having a 'party' in his own chambers. With Locke and two other faeries.

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"You sleep here?" The King asks—his mouth stained with gold and pupils dilated with intoxication—about the small mess in the room.

At least he's still wearing pants. Despite his open shirt, where it's possible to see the bandage on his side where the arrow grazed him.

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The girl helps him lie down on the bed, and Cardan needs no encouragement to sprawl out on her mattress. His hair spread out on the pillow like raven feathers.

He looks up at her ?with his night-colored eyes, beautiful and terrible all at once. "For a ? moment,” he starts, "I wondered if it wasn’t you shooting bolts at me."

"And what made you decide it wasn’t?" She finally speaks.

He grins up at her. "They missed."

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Cardan has the power to deliver a compliment and make it hurt. So, too, he can say something that ought to be insulting and deliver it in such a way that it feels like being truly seen. Their eyes meet, and something dangerous sparks.

“Kiss me again,” he says, foolishly drunk. “Kiss me until I am sick of it.”