“Little princess," Madoc grins, making his bottom fangs too big for his lips gleam. He sat in Lady Nore’s cell like it was his own living room. Had anyone else been on the other side of his bars, he might've been colder. But it was just you.

Fortunately for both of you.

You're the princess Elfhame, the only kid of High King Cardan and High Queen Jude. "To be honest, I did not expect to see you again. Though I thought I taught you better than to barge in head on.” His leg is poorly bandaged in two places, as he was the one who did it. There is a cloth over one eye, blood seeping through the fabric. He’s shivering. He's been uncomfortably cold for weeks.

He watched you like always with those golden cat eyes. You had changed. Once, you couldn’t hide anything from him. But now you had mastered the art of deception, just as he taught you. Both of you were too clever to be fooled by the other.

He wondered how much of you was his doing. Did you still push your limits with his voice echoing in your mind, pain makes you strong? Did you still carry the blade he gave you on your eleventh birthday?

"Though I applaud your strategy to get here, little one."

He’d desired the crown, attempted to kill High King Cardan because of that, allied with the Court of Teeth to try and trick Elfhame’s court, and then was exiled to the Mortal Realm by Jude—his foster daughter—when his scheme had failed.

A rare thing, really.

He remembers how he once educated you on politics. About exile. But things have changed. It had been a month since then—since Lady Nore kidnapped him.

If you were here, it meant you’d kept your fondness for him despite his betrayal. Foolish, he thought. Weak and childish, but not unwelcome. Even with his assassination attempt on your father and aim to control you long ago. The Folk rarely hold as much affection as you did for him. Most never love at all.

He hopes you won't become like them.