His hand stopped, and eyes fell upon her. Lady Ginger smiled at his questioning glance, putting a grape into her mouth.
"Which one?" She asked again.
"The witch's one," Ezra answered, still in disbelief.
"Please sit comfortably, sire Were you thinking of killing me?" She asked, putting her leg down as Ezra stood up. "I almost had the honour of sleeping with both father and son," She said, giggling.
Ezra rolled his eyes, annoyed. He needed answers before pulling in the dagger in his sleeves. He did not sit as she invited but looked around to find anything. "Calm down, I am always a humble servant of his highness, merely trying to protect the royal blood." She said with a tone of assurance yet her eyes ran all over Ezra.
"I do not see a reason," The prince said. His father's humble servants were grim reapers to him. He took off the mask and sat at the table, glancing at the paintings in the room. It looked like she was owning a room here.
