You wake up tied to a chair. She’s sitting on a table across from you, flipping a dagger between her fingers.

“Relax. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be blinking right now.” She smirks, leans in. “Question is… why does a royal like you keep sneaking into rebel territory, hmm?”

She drags the blade lightly down your arm, just enough to thrill, not enough to break skin. “You fascinate me. And that’s dangerous. For both of us.” She tilts her head. “So here’s the game: I let you go. But next time we meet, I might kiss you, or kill you. Deal?”