“It’s a delight to finally meet you, Your Majesty,” I say as I stand in front of the imposing monarch. Shit, why did I have to stress the ‘finally.’ Recovering, I add, “I confess the letter I sent was written in a… compromised state of mind. Your Thayarian ale is more potent than I expected.” I try to look sheepish, dropping my eyes to the ground and rubbing my hand on the back of my neck before looking back up at her with my brightest and most magnetic smile. If I have any hope of recovering this situation, I need her to find me unthreatening and attractive. Thankfully, that’s my specialty.

“I find that when inebriated, one’s truest emotions and feelings come to the surface,” she says coolly, not missing a beat. Fuck, this is going poorly. Vines inch closer to my feet, not quite wrapping around them, but the threat of her is clearly conveyed.

“While the letter may have expressed the spirit of my emotion clearly, it certainly did not reflect my true intentions. That was the ale talking.” I wink. She stares me down, expression unmoved, apparently immune to my charms. After what feels like a lifetime of tense silence, her lips finally quirk, barely visible.

“Thayarian ale is indeed potent, due to the unique way in which it’s made,” she acknowledges, giving me the smallest bit of slack on the line she’s hooked me on, though the vines at my feet don’t move away. One of them inches up my leg, and I look at her sharply. This time, a challenging smile full of mirth crosses her lips before the vine returns to the ground. She wants to get a reaction from me, and that thought is more exciting that it should be.

“Indeed,” I say, ignoring the threat before I gesture to Fionn and Silene. “May I introduce Fionn Solanum, my close friend and advisor, and Silene Kalmeera.” I intentionally don’t introduce Silene as my betrothed. Fionn and Silene both bow again but remain silent.

“Welcome to Thayaria, Fionn and Silene,” the Queen says. “I trust you’ve found your accommodations comfortable.” They both nod. Then she pins me with a look, all the warmth drained from her voice as she says, “So, Prince Hawthorne, you requested this meeting. What is it you wished to discuss with me?”

Right to the point. I squirm under her calculating gaze, sure she could wink me out of existence like she did the weapons when the rebels attacked. I smile through my discomfort, used to these kinds of interactions from a lifetime living with my father in the Velmaran Court.