Danaë let her head hang low, the cold from the stone floor slowly sinking into her legs where she knelt.
Many footsteps in the distance grew louder, nearing her. Soon, she would discover if this desperate gambit of hers would bear fruit, or if it was as foolish as she feared.
A door opened, heavy oak creaking with age as it swung on iron hinges. The footsteps entered, surrounding her.
A voice that she recognized, the guard from before, spoke. "State your business with the king."
Danaë lifted her head slightly. The men that flanked her wore soldiers' garb in varying levels of quality, with different insignia denoting rank.
None of them caught her attention, though. All her hopes and fears laid on the man before her.
"Speak!" The guard demanded.
She ignored him – he was irrelevant.
Raising her head, she faced the king.
Dark eyes – fathomless and unknowable, like the ocean at night.
Exactly as she remembered them.
"Leave us."
His voice rumbled through the room.
The assembly hesitated.
"I said, leave us!"
Danaë tried not to flinch at his sharp tone.
The men heeded his command. As they left, Danaë felt her heartbeat quicken.
The last man drew the door closed behind him, and they were alone.
He said nothing, walking slowly toward her, circling her.
His hands reached out, fingers catching on her hood and dragging it back, exposing her to his view.
"Hello, Princess."
"King Cenric-"
"Allow me to express my condolences for the loss of your parents."
She swallowed, "Thank you."
They hadn't made it out of the palace. She hadn't seen it, but she'd heard the cheers from the crowd.
"What brings you to my hall?"
"I-" she thought of all the lies she could tell, but opted for the truth. "Maxson has chased me out of every hiding spot, hunted down every ally." She swallowed. "No one would ever expect to find me here. With you."
His eyes burned with some indecipherable emotion and his lips quirked, "So, you're seeking my protection?"
Her voice quavered as she answered him. "Yes."
A moment passed, an eternity of seconds, while he surveyed her, weighing her fate in his hands.
"Very well then." He turned away, "Come with me."
Danaë stared after him, stunned.
"That's it?"
He turned, eyebrow cocked, "You're disappointed?"
"No! No, absolutely not – I simply..."
"What?" He stepped nearer to her, forcing her to angle her head back to meet his gaze. "What is it, Princess?"
Her mouth went dry at his proximity. "I expected you to make me beg for it."
Reaching his hand forward, his fingertips traced the line of her throat until he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Danaë couldn't understand why, but his smile sent goosebumps across her skin.
"Come, Princess. I'll take you to the kitchens while your rooms are being prepared."
Danaë dismissed the maid once her braid was tied.
As the door closed, she sat back, reveling in the clean linen of her nightgown and the lotioned softness of her skin.
Weeks had passed since her last bath, weeks spent joining up with caravans, disappearing whenever suspicion was raised, and running for her life on more than one occasion. Relaxing in a chair in front of a fireplace was a luxury she hadn't enjoyed in a while.
As her eyes grew heavy with long-fought exhaustion, her thoughts trailed back two years before.
The first time she'd met him.
The first time she'd felt his eyes on her.
The first time she'd felt this curiously exhilarating fear...
Her buttocks ached.
Seated at the slightly smaller throne at her mother's right side, Danaë had been sitting with her spine erect and her face a carefully practiced mask of regal calm for an hour. To her chagrin, she was expected to maintain that position for another two.
One by one, the kingdoms of the empire made their displays of power, wealth and, above all, submission to her father, the emperor.
Currently, a kingdom from the snowy northern mountains was closing a very long, very intricate dance. At the final bow, Mother inclined her head very slightly.
It was her version of clapping and cheering.
Danaë held her composure with an iron grip. As hostess, the Empress was allowed to express gratitude or pleasure at each kingdom's display, but her child was not granted such latitude.
As the dancers cleared the floor, a cortege of grey-clad figures advanced, with a man in black leading them.
"Presenting his Majesty, King Cenric."
The man in black continued past his crier, stopping at the steps of the dais.
"Your majesties."
Her father stood, and the entire receiving hall knelt.
"King Cenric, do you now, before the assembled powers of the realm, swear fealty to the Empire and to her divinely appointed Emperor?
From his kneeling position, Cenric answered, "I do."
"Do you pledge to protect her sovereignty and come to her aid in time of need?"
"I do."
"So it is sworn before the kings of the realm, before God, and before his representative on Earth. Arise, King Cenric. Carry out your duties with honor, and never forget where your loyalties lie."
The man arose, bowing his head to acknowledge the Emperor and his family.
Danaë watched him closely, catching the momentary sly glint in his eyes as he looked straight at her...
Remembering that glint, Danaë shivered, despite the warmth from the fire. She stood, intending to crawl beneath the covers of the massive bed, when a knock sounded at the door.
Danaë turned her head, curious. Had the maid forgotten something?
"Enter." She called out, beginning to turn down the bed.
But, instead of the small, quiet woman who'd helped Danaë bathe and dress, Cenric walked into her bedchamber.
Danaë froze. "M-my Lord?"
He strode toward her, the dark coals of his eyes burning hot trails over her body. "When we're alone, you may call me Cenric."
"W-why are alone together? This- this is entirely improper," Danaë stepped back, bumping against the tapestry-covered wall. "Whatever it is you wish to say to me can wait until the morrow."
Ignoring her discomfort, Cenric stalked her like a predator, "It's not what I want to say to you that can't wait, little one..."
"Stay back-"
He leaned against her, his arms forming a cage that held her prisoner to his will.
"It's what I'm going to do to you."
The fine linen of Danaë's nightgown wasn't near enough of a barrier between them. As he came closer, Danaë felt the heat of his body raging like an inferno.
"Your Highness!"
His hand struck out, gripping her jaw tight and tilting it toward him, "It's Cenric."
Then he forced her mouth open and kissed her.
Danaë squealed at the shock and the unexpected intrusion of his tongue. Trying to push him away led to her hands getting pinned up behind her and none of her protests could stop the complete possession of her mouth.
Relinquishing his hold on her jaw, Cenric pulled at the tie at the front of her nightgown.
As she felt the fabric go slack against her chest, Danaë panicked, twisting her mouth away from his. "You cannot do this!"
Cenric folded the linen aside, baring her breasts to his eyes and the fire-warmed air.
Danaë watched, horrified as he cupped her tender flesh in his hand, his callused thumb teasing her nipple into hardness.
When he leaned down to take it in his mouth, she bit her lip to hold back a moan.
"You can't do this..." she gasped.
Cenric released her breast, and as the heat of his mouth dissipated, he grabbed her chin and roughly forced her to look into his blazing eyes.
"There was always going to be a price for seeking my help, Danaë. You accepted it the moment that you walked into my hall."
"Please-"
"Too late, Princess. Now, we're going to finish what you started three years ago."