True to his word, her guard told the king that she no longer tried to kill them. In turn, the king returned to her dark cell, dismissed all the guards except his brother, and took up a place in the corner.
Smart male, not to trust her.
Stupid, too. She was Fae. No word she spoke could ever be a lie.
Her tail swept back and forth over the stone floor, her orange eyes monitoring the king, her clawed hands folded in her lap. He stared back silently, as if studying her.
Eventually, he spoke.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Didn't believe me when I claimed to be a princess?" she replied with a smirk.
"You were delirious. For all I know, you were believing things that weren't true," he replied.
"Fair point."
"So, if you aren't a princess, who are you?" he inquired.
She grinned. "I am no one. Nothing. A bastard born between a Demon and a Fae, abandoned and given to an elderly couple that never saw my fifteenth birthday."
He blinked. "You're half Demon?"
"Fae don't have black sclera," she replied.
He blinked. "Well, that explains the claws."
Her grin grew. "The horns, too."
"Some Fae have horns."
"Not like these."
He nodded, storing away the information.
"Can you lie?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Sadly, no. I try to lie and my throat closes up. Trust me. I tired once, and I choked half to death. Then my adopted parents grounded me for three months."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty Four."
"How long have you been on the streets?"
"Nine years."
"Who are your biological parents?"
"I know not who my mother was, just that she was a Demon. My father was a Fae who wanted nothing to do with me," she replied.
The king grinned. "Dodging questions, are we?"
She raised a brow. "I've spoken the truth."
"But not all of it. What's your father's name?" he inquired.
"Alex," she said.
"Full name?"
"I don't know it," she replied.
Indeed, she did not know his middle name. She knew the rest of it, however.
He sighed. "Oh, alright. You're essentially useless, then."
She chuckled. "My father wishes I'd never been conceived, and you expected a ransom?"
"I was hoping that maybe I'd know him and would be able to convince him to take you back," he replied.
Her smile grew grim. "I'm not even sure if he's still alive. Even if he is, my half sister would run the household."
He lifted a brow. "Oh?"
"She can lie. She can scheme. And, as far as I know, she did. And she lords over her home," the female replied.
"Would she pay for you?"
"She's sooner die."
He considered her words, then sighed. "Oh, what shall I do with you now?"
His brother stiffened at his side. His hand twitched at his side, ready to lunge for his sword, should he need to.
A loyal male, then, even to friends he hardly knew.
"Brother," the king said.
The man did not reply.
"What do you think I should do with this female?" he asked.
"I'd strongly suggest against killing her," he replied.
"You've taken a liking to her, then?" his brother guessed.
"I've taken to pitying her," he replied.
She smiled. "We've made a truce. I'd almost call us friends."
He snorted, rolling his eyes. The king smiled. "Do you even know his name?"
"I could guess," she replied, "I'd call it a very good guess, from all I've overheard."
"Go for it," the king said.
"His name is Gavrynn," she said.
"A smart one, then," the king said, "Well, brother, if you haven't taken a liking to her, I believe I have."
Again, she grinned.
"I think I'll keep her as my pet," he said.
She chuckled, her smile shifting to a smirk. "Oh, have fun with that."
He grinned back. "Oh, I believe I will."
Gavrynn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Do what you want."
"And you'll be her personal guard," the king stated.
His brother paused. He blinked, frowned, and questioned, "Why?"
"Because you're completely useless, so I figured I'd give you something useful to do," he replied, "It's better than the alternative, is it not?"
The Fae almost flinched against the threat.
Something like pain flashed in Gavrynn's eyes, amusement in his brother's. He dismissed his pain, however, and dipped his head in submission. The king smiled, strode to his little brother, and ruffled up his hair.
"Take her to my room. Watch her for a while, would you?" he said.
His brother just nodded. The king smiled and left.
Gavrynn waited for his brother's footsteps to fade before he snarled, "Fucking bastard."
"I agree," the Fae said, "A complete prick."
"You're not helping," he snapped.
She held up her hands in defeat, but she asked, "Would you like to talk?"
"No," he snapped, stomping over to her.
He unchained her, anger rolling off of him in waves. She didn't protest, even as he grabbed her arm and yanked her off, nearly seething through his teeth.
Her limbs strained to keep up with his rushed, angry pace, her eyes flickering up and down the dark stone halls.
Breaking through the door to the dungeon, they entered a staircase. She stumbled up it, legs crying out in protest. Gavrynn hauled her up the stairs, caring not if his jagged nails dug into her skin or if his calluses were just a little too rough against her delicate skin. She wasn't even sure if he knew he was hurting her.
Managing to clear the staircase, they entered a second layer of dungeon- well, the first layer, she supposed- this one much more populated. The criminals within mostly ignored her, a few givng her deadly glances.
She grinned back at all of them.
"Don't look at them," he growled.
She did not obey, and he let out another warning growl, which she ignored.
Leaving those dungeons, they emerged into a long, dark hall. Past this hall lay an identical hall, save for the lanterns ligthing it. The hall after, however, was highly decorated. As was every hall and staircase after until they reached the king's chambers.
The chambers, she found, were just as decorated as the halls, if not more so, until she reached his bedroom.
It was rather drab, compared to the rest of his chambers. She supposed it was cozy and comfortable, a calm room to sleep in.
If vampires even slept.
Gavrynn released her, slunk to a desk hair, and just watched her. Standing in the middle of the room, she looked to Gavrynn, mild confusion in her eyes.
"Er, what do I do?" she asked.
"You think I care?" he replied somewhat harshly.
She snorted back. "And here I was, thinking we were friends.
"I don't even know your name," he replied.
She opened her mouth to speak it, then hesitated.
It had been so long since she'd heard it, she'd nearly forgotten it.
"Nemyria," she said, "My name is Nemyria."
"Fancy," he said, not at all caring.
"Just a little fancier than Gavrynn," she replied with a grin.
He snorted, rolling his eyes. Crossing his arms over the back of his chair, he monitored her.
"So, do I just stand here?" she questioned.
He sighed, pulled out a chair, and waved her over. Accepting the seat, she settled into the chair beside him.
"So," she said. "Your brother."
He shorted. "The fricking trash bag."
She snorted, amused. "Is he always like that?"
"Yes, he's always that bossy and snarky and assholeish," he replied.
"You two must get along well, then," she said.
He sent her a glare full of daggers.
She grinned back. He rolled his eyes. "I could see you two getting along well. Too well, probably."
"Oh?" she lifted a brow.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Gods, you two are going to be chaos."
Her grin widened.
Glaring at her through his fingers, he growled, "Don't piss me off."
"Hey, we've still got that truce, do we not?" she said, holding up her clawed hands.
His frown deepened as her grin widened.
"The warning still stands," he replied.
"Oh, alright," she sighed, and draped her arms over the back of her chair, "So, how long are you going to be here?"
"Who knows," Gavrynn replied, "The prick will probably show up at the worst moment possible."
From the doorway, someone snorted. Shifting her gaze to the entryway, Nemyria found the king leaning on the doorway, an offended hand pressed to his chest.
"My dear brother, calling me a prick? You wound me, Gavvy," he said.
Gavrynn gave his brother a vulgar gesture. The king chuckled.
"You can go do whatever," the king said, "I'd like to speak to her. Alone, preferably."
"That's your funeral," Gavrynn mumbled, even as he got up and left.
He did not go farther than ten feet from the door. Ever the loyal guard.
The king turned to Nemyria, a mischievous grin on his lips.
"Well, pet. Where shall we begin?"