[Wulfric Rexanthe]

you can sing for me, but don't you sing the blues

It had been too long since the king had last wandered through the ancient tomes and scrolls. Years sometimes passed between his visits, having books sent to his chambers instead. Sometimes it became too much of an ache, but he missed it now. The smell of the parchment and ink, dust and candles. Smells brought back memories better than anything else.

The Aeos Athenaeum of Çerisun was housed within the palace, a part of the capital city of Quenyi. Gilded, with glossy, mahogany wood bookcases, which stood taller than four men perched upon each other’s shoulders, housed vast knowledge of the four kingdoms and island territories. Stained glass ran along the vaulted ceiling, sprouting from the pale, gold-and-white walls. During normal days, it cast a kaleidoscope of color upon the marbled floor.

Now, however, the library was swathed in darkness, only the occasional sconce and Wulfric’s own fire creating a soft glow. The small, candle-sized flame flickered just above his palm, safely away from the dry pages.

Find me a new book of poetry, came Solaris’s voice, slipping easily between his thoughts.

Wulf smirked a little and ran his fingers along the spines of some the oldest books in the library. He’d wandered deep into the stacks, until he reached the doorway in the back. I’ll see if I can find something you haven’t heard.

We need something new then.

We haven’t looked at our old books in a long time.

She didn’t respond, but she conceded. Wulfric opened the door to the stone steps leading down underground. The room that waited was pitch dark, cold, and dry. Perfect for keeping their most ancient of texts. Things people he’d once known had written, their living hands scrawling ink across the pages. Remnants of his mortality. How many of these had Althelia written in her apprenticeship?

He gingerly chose a book in red binding, the leather and fabric aged, but well preserved. With a sort of reverence, he opened to the first page of elegant script. A sonnet, one that tickled the edges of his memory. He wondered if it was older than even he was, and as he began to read, he wondered what it was like to write a love poem during a time of magical chaos and war.

WULFRIC

[Asher de Raye]

twinkles in the twilight
words on the pages

Asher had returned home from her travels to Ocia and Xuat, exhausted. She had spent the better part of the week traveling on dragonback, and her body yearned for her soft downy bed. Thanks to her forefathers, Asher had a lovely room in the solar of Çerisun Hall, private from prying eyes and bathed in light. The halls were ornately carved with marble depictions of dragons and their riders, glittering with gold. She was grateful to be home. Her first day upon arrival, she slept an entire day. Today, she felt new energy course through her veins, though her body was still tender. 

She hadn't stopped thinking of the stranger, even as she spent her day catching up on codexes detailing recent visitors of the Athenaeum, and organizing new scrolls from the local scribes. Asher's mind would soon follow her body, sore and aching, demanding rest. She sat at her desk, gazing over the balcony to the lower levels of the Athenaeum and colors faded to muteness, and a quiet hush permeated through the cases of texts that were taller than she was. 

Perhaps she might find some answers to her questions in the lower levels? Quite an idea, it's a shame I can't fit. Viríon's presence pressed upon her mind, an inky darkness that gently brushed against her being. Asher smiled to herself, remembering the time when he was just a young dragon, nigh the size of a Puffetrat, and she had been caught sneaking him into the chefs quarters to engorge upon meat until his belly was round and protrudcing. They had been found in the morning, sleeping together in a sack of potatoes. Her Lord Father was not pleased in the slightest, but if was one of the fondest memories she had. 

Asher was seated at her desk, and decidedly stacked her papyrus into a neat pile before reaching under the old desco, tapping a practiced finger into a locked compartment, which spat out a key for her to unlock the drawers. It's not that she didn't trust others in the Palace, she'd rather to be safe than sorry. Even in her short life, she had seen changes within the world that made people violent and untrustworthy. Asher loathed the idea of being tricked by a silver tongued individual. 

She placed her papers in gently, and brought out an inky vantablack scale, glittered with fleck of silver, resembling stars. It was one of Viríon's first scales he shed, and Asher had kept it as a keepsake. She shortly found out, one can create sparked flame from striking it upon metal. Gentle hands grasped the candelabra, which was made of brassy material and shaped to resemble a Dragonflower, whose bloom splayed out petals in 5 directions, with a flame-bud in the middle, which held her candle. 

Asher struck the scale upon a nail, letting the sparks ignite upon the wick. The flames danced and sung as they were born, chasing away any darkness in it's path. Light feet sauntered along the path she had memorized after many years. A gentle hand pressed upon the door as it yawned open, creaking, opening way to a steep and spiraling staircase made of gray stone. Asher left the door open ajar behind her, calming her nervous heart about being trapped in the lower levels alone. 

The smell of old ink and texts felt homely to Asher, which only grew stronger as the staircase unfolded into a large crypt. With her free hand she lifted the hem of her skirt as she hopped nimbly down the last steps, eyes scanning the many rows of wooden shelves. Where should she start? She decided to begin in the folklore and known monster section, and then perhaps she would scan old religious texts. 

Asher had shared her dragonflame with only a few candles, in a small notch of a room in the back of the crypt. Shadows of pages and her form danced on the walls as she moved, but she scarcely noticed. Before her were three books, bound with dark rustic leather and brass clasps. One text spoke of the Great War and the decay that followed. Bodies of human and animal alike, infiltrated by some mysterious parasite. The other held drawings of ancient beasts, and the last wrote of dark rituals that only the damned performed. 

Asher felt drawn to the first book, her eyes locked in as the knowledge of ancient authors flowed freely into her mind. She flicked through the pages that described the bodies as being possessed and emptied out from within. She noticed, then, the next page was ripped free. Asher sat back in her chair with a great sigh , contemplating what she should do next. She reached for her candelbara, her hand just missing the hilt, and it clattered to the floor, metallic clangs bouncing off the walls and ringing in her ears. "Shit!" She exclaimed as she rushed to catch the flat candle that rolled away from her. 

[Wulfric Rexanthe]

you can sing for me, but don't you sing the blues

Above the clouds where silent whispers dwell,
Two hearts take flight, escaping war's cruel grip.
Through skies of azure, they weave their spell,
With every beat, their souls in passion dip.

Yearning ignites like stars in velvet night,
A dance of shadows, intertwined and bold.
In every glance, a promise of the light,
A story whispered, endlessly retold.

Though battles rage and distance stretches wide,
Their love, a beacon, guides them through the strife.
In dreams, they meet where heart and hope abide,
A timeless bond that conquers pain and life.

So let the storms of fate around them roar,
For in each other, they will rise and soar.

Wulfric smiled a little as he finished reading it telepathically to Solaris, and he resisted the urge to run his fingers along the old, raised ink, lest he ruin the paper. He could have written it himself back then, about Althelia.

You’re thinking about her too much lately, Solaris said.

His brow knotted, and he shut the book to carefully return it to its place. She feels closer, these last years. Like her portrait might come alive, and she’ll step free of it.

Let her go, she urged. This is the ache I warned you about.

Wulfric’s teeth ground together, a muscle feathering in his jaw. I’m not having this conversation right now. I don’t focus on her.

And he pushed both her and Althelia from his mind. He had been trying to do better. To let her go. Thousands of years, it had been. It should have been easy.

“Shit!”

A woman’s curse, not far. He turned, wondering who else ever visited this ancient place. Not many were permitted access. He knew some of the names on the list…Hm? A candle rolling down the aisle stopped at Wulfric’s boot. He lifted a brow and picked it up, and then not a moment later a beautiful, dark-haired woman appeared, chasing after it.

“I’ve caught your candle,” he said with a wry smirk, holding it out for her. “Really, you should have it on a leash if it’s going to dash off like that.”

WULFRIC

[Asher de Raye]

twinkles in the twilight
words on the pages

Asher nearly tripped on the hem of her skirt as she launched herself from her chair, catching her balance just moments before her face met the cold slate floor. She felt Viríon's amusement leak into her heart, and she scowled. Foul beast! She scolded him, and he returned with hearty laughter, flames erupting from his flared nostrils. You are not alone. His voice echoed through her head before tactically retreating, stopping her in her tracks. Surely there wasn't a living soul down here with her, at this late hour? 

Asher smoothed her dress as she tip toed towards the dark corner of the room she saw her candle roll. She saw the shadows move, and from them came a handsome man, tall and proud. Her heart raced in her chest, fear coursing through her veins, before she noticed who stood before her, holding the half-burned candle in his hands. As the realization set in, she allowed herself to relax. He would not harm her. 

It was the King. Asher let out a breath, responding, "This pesky little thing almost caused me more trouble than it's worth, I'd loathe to be trapped here in the dark.." She stepped forwarding, taking it back gently. "Now what could a King be doing deep beneath the castle at this hour, I wonder?" She gestured to her desk that sat foreboding in the low light. 

"I find myself on a search for something unseen by the eyes of the world..." There was no reason to hide her intentions in the crypts from him, even if she herself felt like she was only chasing ghosts. She walked towards the desco, gentle hands grasping the book she was reading, with a page hastily torn from its spine. "I feel close to the answers I seek, and yet, worlds away. Perhaps you can make more sense of this than I?" Asher offered it to him, meeting his eyes with her own concerned ones. You fancy him, don't you? Viríon tapped at the edges of her mind, prodding her. I'll make a meal out of you! She threatened back, knowing full well it would never come to pass. 

[Wulfric Rexanthe]

you can sing for me, but don't you sing the blues

She was startled, and Wulfric braced himself for the groveling—

But she didn’t. She relaxed, and he even sensed humor as she replied, "This pesky little thing almost caused me more trouble than it's worth, I'd loathe to be trapped here in the dark.." Gently, the woman slipped the candle from his hand. "Now what could a King be doing deep beneath the castle at this hour, I wonder?" Wulfric raised a brow at her with a conspirator's smirk. Witty, and clever enough to be down here. And beautiful—downright lovely.

Ah, so it is the library where you hunt now? Solaris hummed.

I am not hunting! I don’t even know her name.

It hasn’t stopped you before.

She went on to explain her own presence, "I find myself on a search for something unseen by the eyes of the world..." She stepped toward him, in her hands clutched a leatherbound book with brass buckles. Ancient, one that most certainly belonged down here. “I feel close to the answers I seek,” she said, holding out her book, “and yet worlds away. Perhaps you can make more sense of this than I?”

Wulfric's fingertips brushed hers as he accepted the book and flipped it open. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as blue eyes darted rapidly across the pages, skimming what he needed as he flipped through them. When he reached the end, the page torn from the end, he blinked his surprise. He looked up at her.

“I was a boy during the Great War,” he explained. “What I can remember could be considered an honest account, just perhaps not an accurate one.” Turning back to the intact pages, he pointed one passage. “But some things are wrong. There was still life. Happiness. Hope. Even when things were darkest, we hoped. At least I did.” There had always been faith that his mother would come home. He smiled a little, but then opened to the torn page.

That was a concern.

“Do you know what happened to this?” He thumbed the torn page, near mournfully. There were few relics left from his mortality. “What is it you were looking for?”

WULFRIC

[Asher de Raye]

twinkles in the twilight
words on the pages

Although the light from the candles barely lit the room, the twinkle in the King's eye could not hide from Asher's perception. Had he expected her to apologize or fill his cup with words of sweet nothings? It was not lost on her that he could attract all manners of women - and men, due to his chiseled features and good hearted nature. The people of Quenyi adored their King. Perhaps growing alongside her dragon had changed how she thought of royals, that they were more similar to common folk than one would believe. 

She smiled smartly, casting him a foxy glance underneath a playfully arched eyebrow, carefully inspecting him as he flittered through the pages of the codex. Asher listened intently as the immortal man recounted his past, thousands of years ago. It was a strange thing, to see someone as a human reflection of themself, yet their life experience were realms apart. She knew that her own lifespan would be lengthened, thanks to the magical bond with Viríon, who may very well outlive her by hundreds of years. Viríon growled through their bond, the sound reverberating through her bones. He did not care to think of it. 

"Hope is a funny thing, isn't it?" She responded with a light laugh, "What manner of madness, to face eternity with a wishful heart. It seems the author did not find this within themself." She had been there before, many years ago, as she traveled back from Mountain End. Asher had found that feeling never went away, it tucked itself into the smallest corner it could find, biding it's time and showing it's face in lifes worst moments. She grew around it, larger and larger, until it's power felt only like a tap against iron. Asher had scarcely noticed that her hand reached up and across her chest, to her heart. It beat rapidly in her chest, but why, she did not know. 

She felt Viríon's presence with her, though he did not speak. "I-" Asher began, fiddling with the candle in her hand. She let out a sigh before sauntering back to the desk, dipping the wick into another open flame, a life shared. The woman eased herself into the brass cushioned chair, ushering him over to seat himself across from her. Asher lifted her hair from her face, securing it half-up with two metal pins. The dance of the flames accentuated her features - her eyes, almond shaped and sultry, her high cheekbones and the curve of her collarbone. "My King, I wish not to fret you, but I have... suspicions of a terrible evil lurking within our realm. I spend many a day collecting from scribes, hearing and sharing stories, so that the kingdoms legacy will endure the test of time," Asher felt her body involuntarily shake as she shared what she knew, what was seen in Xuat, through Viríon's eyes as she command him to spy on men working in secret. She had held onto this information for weeks, wracking her mind to try and dig up anything she could that would explain what she felt. 

"Something feels changed somehow, and I've dedicated myself to finding out what it is and bringing it to light. I know not why the last page is missing, but I fear it may confirm what I've shared with you," She continued, concern lacing her voice. "What say you?" Asher asked, leaning back in her chair, allowing herself to be held by the softness of cushions. 

[Wulfric Rexanthe]

you can sing for me, but don't you sing the blues

“Hope is a funny thing isn’t it?” Her soft laugh was like bells. "What manner of madness, to face eternity with a wishful heart. It seems the author did not find this within themself."

His eyes darted to the hand that lifted to her chest, then to the way her face seemed to change, ever so slightly. Centuries taught him different tells in people. He wondered what upset her, however slight.

He didn’t comment, simply nodding his head with a soft snort of a laugh. Madness. It was a miracle he hadn’t gone mad these long years. He supposed he could be proud of himself for that. But then again… there were times, times when the power was intoxicating, when it led to things like what he did in Wyrmrot. The new name always bothered him. Dismal, a disrespect to the lives lost that day. But there were some things even he couldn’t change in society. There was so much he wished he could change.

"I-" She started, then stopped, twisting the candle. He tilted his head at her sigh, and she left him for the nearest desk, where she lit the candle before seating herself. He followed at her silent behest, smirking just a little at her ease around him. It was refreshing. And for it to be a woman as beautiful as her could be counted as a bonus. He traced the slope of her shoulder up her neck, up to her eyes that flickered with firelight.

Don’t pretend it’s only her eyes you see, Solaris teased.

Sol.

He could practically feel her amused hum.

"My King, I wish not to fret you,” she said, and his attention was quickly grabbed, “but I have... suspicions of a terrible evil lurking within our realm. I spend many a day collecting from scribes, hearing and sharing stories, so that the kingdom's legacy will endure the test of time.”

Wulfric’s eyes were bright in the shadow of his brow as he studied her, the way she trembled. A terrible evil sent a chill down his spine. Her recount of what she experienced in Xuat was unnerving, to say the least, and she shared that she had a dragon herself—

Suddenly it clicked, who she was. Asher de Raye. She was on the list of people allowed in the deepest archives, and a bonded rider.

"Something feels changed somehow, and I've dedicated myself to finding out what it is and bringing it to light. I know not why the last page is missing, but I fear it may confirm what I've shared with you… What say you?"

His jaw feathered as he lowered himself to sit in the seat opposite from her, lounging comfortably with an elbow on the arm, knuckles pressed to his lips. He was silent for a thoughtful moment.

“If what you and your dragon have sensed is true, I will deploy more Ascendants to patrol the country, to watch for whatever it is that gathers on the horizon.” He tapped a finger on the other arm of the chair, then leaned forward to take up the book. “Here on the page before it. It speaks of… haunting things. Things I remember the adults around me talking about. I can only venture a guess that the torn page is how one might achieve these things. I think that either someone is trying to prevent it… or someone wishes to bring about some of the darkness from the Great War.” He paused, recalling things he hadn’t thought of in so long, he was surprised he remembered at all. “People hollowed out into nothing through evil possession. I had nightmares about it, wondering when they would arrive in our city.”

He stared at the book a moment longer, then back up at her. He gave her a charming smile. “I don’t mean to sound so fatalistic, Lady de Raye,” he said. “We are dragon riders. Fighting this is what we’re meant for, the fire to beat back the cold and the dark.”

WULFRIC

[Asher de Raye]

twinkles in the twilight
words on the pages

Asher eyed the man curiously, admiring his features and the way he spoke. The confidence that welled from his being, the way his lips curved into a devilishly handsome smile, how suredly he held himself. He truly was the embodiment of a King, and he had spent many years curating his image. 

He sat across from her, deep in thought as he considered her words of warning. Asher felt a flush of warmth reach her cheeks as she realized she was gazing a little to intently. He was a King, after all. Regardless of her own elevated status, the odds of them sharing tender feelings were low.. right? Asher shook her hair from the pins, allowing her wavy locks to tumble back down her shoulders as the King finally spoke. 

She considered him with a respectful glint in her eyes. Asher was grateful to have her worries validated. All parts of her hoped that what she thought it could be wasn't true. There had been many lifetimes without a great threat to the realm, people must have forgotten old knowledge and the secrets kept within inky darkness. 

"The dragons will be glad to be put to task, it must have been many a year since knowledge of this kind has come to light.." Asher responded, her hand lazily waving over the flame of her candle as its slow burn edged ever closer to the end of its wick. She sat upright as the King continued, recounting demonic things from many lives past. 

"If that came to be the case, who could be trusted?" Asher thought of her family, her parents and siblings, of the millions of lives that dwelled within Quenyi's borders, and many more across the expanse of sea. "How would we know whose soul was taken?" She withdrew her hand from the flame, placing it in her lap. 

Asher let out a chirpy laugh as he called her by name, taken slightly by surprise. She met his gaze fiercely, responding, "Spoken like a true King. It's no small wonder why your people adore you." A smirk curved upon the corners of her lips. "Viríon would be eager to let loose his fire," Flames danced behind her eyes as for the briefest of moments, her and her beast became one. Their minds melting together in a molten blaze, warbling waves of energy emanating from the ethereal tether that bonded them. 

[Wulfric Rexanthe]

you can sing for me, but don't you sing the blues

"If that came to be the case, who could be trusted?" Her anxiety was palpable. "How would we know whose soul was taken?" The hand that had been playing with the mesmerizing flames drew back, but she did manage a laugh at least, as she addressed his reassurance. "Spoken like a true King. It's no small wonder why your people adore you. Viríon would be eager to let loose his fire.”

It was a marvel to watch, always, when dragon and rider mingled their souls together. The blaze in her eyes were not quite human—riders just weren’t quite human, were they?

She has the true soul of a rider, Solaris observed. I should like to meet this Viríon. We may see eye to eye.

Are you all so eager to fight?

I am a dragon. It was the only explanation she needed.

And so was Asher in this moment. It warmed him, thrilled him even. He gave her what would appear to be a cursory once-over, but was in fact militant in taking in her every detail.

“I wouldn't yet fear that something like that will come to pass. Dark magic is not so easy to wield any longer." He held up his jewel for a moment, then tucked it back under his shirt. "Have you ever considered joining the ranks of the Ascendants?” he asked, a brow raised. “You’ve the drive and intelligence to be a formidable asset.”

WULFRIC

[Asher de Raye]

twinkles in the twilight
words on the pages

Asher considered the King's words. He spoke truth, dark magic, or any magic was no longer attainable by means she knew or read of in old texts. Surely if there was movement under the surface, those sensitive to it would notice. Asher's eyebrow arched as she saw the jewel - she hadn't come close to it before, but even a simple mind would have the ability to discern it was no normal crystal. 

It beat in conjunction with the King's heart, as much a part of him as he was of it. Darkness bended to its will in the crypts, carving out space with its pure energy. He slipped it back under his clothes, and Asher's gaze rose to meet his. 

Viríon prodded into her mind, considering his offer. He was still a young dragon, but strong and fierce in nature. He'd take any chance to show his prowess to receive praise and glory. Such a proud creature, he was. 

"Ascendant? Hmm.." She tapped a finger to her chin as her thoughts drifted to the possibility. She enjoyed her job of protecting knowledge and history, but maybe if she could, she would be able to help in creating it too. "I'd like to hear more of this position," She replied decidedly, Viríon's hum of approval rang in her ears. She could see him in her minds eye, wings outstretched, hot air blowing from his nostrils, leaving slender tendrils of smoke roiling from them. 

"Perhaps you'd be keen to meet Viríon, he's quite the show off," She laughed again, throwing her head back and she saw her dragon ruffle his scales and peer at her with a scornful eye. 

[Wulfric Rexanthe]

you can sing for me, but don't you sing the blues

She looked suddenly interested, and his smirk pulled up a little higher on one side.

"Ascendant? Hmm.." Her delicate finger tapped on her chin. Elegant brows shaped into that of thought. His eyes drifted to her mouth, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth as he brought them to her eyes again. "I'd like to hear more of this position."

She was resolute, and he grinned now, eyes ablaze with Solaris’ satisfaction. A slow grin crept across his face, his eyes twinkling.

"Perhaps you'd be keen to meet Viríon, he's quite the show off.”

When she laughed, he chuckled too. He recognized when a dragon was tickling someone’s thoughts. Solaris did now, ruffling her scales, heating his blood with a puff of white fire. “Yes, we should like to meet him!”

And then he sobered just a little.

“I warn you, darling, I could go on forever about my Ascendants. They are the living embodiment of Quenti’s strength and spirit, a force forged in the crucible of darkness and loyalty. Understand, we are not mere riders; we are chosen, selected by fate, by the dragons themselves, to be the last line of defense against darkness. To join their ranks is to validate a bond deeper than any oath, stronger than blood, a bond that turns warrior and beast into a singular, unstoppable entity. When the Ascendants are called upon, there is no retreat, no hesitation, for to be an Ascendant is to be bound to the very heart of Quenyi.”

Wulfric leaned back in his chair, and lazily, he called a flame from one of the candles. Obediently, it drifted off of the wick and to his waiting fingers, where he began to twist it between them like a slithering snake. His eyes never left Asher’s.

“The Ascendants do not simply fight for glory or honor; they fight for home,” he went on. “They fight for the people of Quenyi, for the legacy of a kingdom that has stood strong through centuries. They are the first to charge into danger, and the last to leave.. When the Ascendants ride, they ride with the weight of an entire kingdom on their shoulders—and they carry that burden without flinching. I believe you have the strength to wield it, Asher.” Such an informal address, but it felt right in the moment.

“In the courts of Quenyi, the Ascendants are revered as both protectors and symbols of the kingdom’s unwavering resolve. To be an Ascendant is to be more than a hero; it is to be immortalized as a guardian of Quenyi’s future.” He leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees, and he sent the fire rushing back to the candle. “And among them, my descendant, Princess Iantia and her dragon, Parallax, stand as captains. You would begin as a fledgling, as all do when they first enlist.”

WULFRIC

[Asher de Raye]

twinkles in the twilight
words on the pages

Asher peered at the King with a watchful and curious eye as he shared her laugh. It would seem thousands of years of life had not worn on him too harshly. Being able to laugh in the shadow of darkness was a trait that could cause her heart to flutter. Perhaps there were many faces he wore, each as different as the last, in order to keep sanity within his own mind. She noticed how his energy ebbed and flowed, much like a great and vast ocean. 

Asher watched the man's eyes light up as he spoke of the Ascendants, excitement and love lining the intricacies of his facial expressions. The purpose of his very soul in their realm was intertwined with those he held in high regard. And to be offered a spot among them - she felt a great honor. She nodded as he continued to explain the purpose of Ascendants, the energy coming off of him was very tangible, as if the jewel that thrummed against the warmth of his chest amplified him. 

A soft gasp left her lips as flames came to life from nothingness, floating to the outstretched tip of his fingers, where it coiled around his hand emulating a small, blazing serpent. Such a subtle display of power, and yet, oddly intimate. Such gentleness. It was unlike many experiences she had with lesser men in the streets of Ocia, who were cutthroat and brash. Nor the men in Sunsalt lake, who spoke only of farming and drinking. Asher felt a deep warmth form on her cheeks as her eyes met his, the reflection of the wormed flame reflecting in their locked gaze. 

As the flame came to rest upon the candle and settle, she felt herself breathe once more. Asher hadn't noticed that she was holding her breath, and she felt a wave of embarrassment. Flirting with a King are we? Her dragon chimed in, humor lacing his thoughts, though she felt him keep a respectable distance. Asher had half the mind to evict him from her thoughts, but she relented and allowed herself to sit upright in her chair once more. 

She reflected upon the King's word for a few moments as the silence hung heavy in the air. Her gaze then honed in on Wulfric as her heart was flooded with determination, and a new, odd feeling she hadn't experienced before. Her eyes calculated his frame, his face, his chest. "I would gladly accept your offer, King Wulfric, as I do love a great challenge." A flirtatious smirk tugged at the edges of her lips as she replied.