The cabin is silent. Cordelia is left with her own words as he doesn’t respond, turning on his side to indicate that he’s done speaking. She sits on the wooden chair, leaning on the table for comfort—as much as one could with bound arms. She would not sleep on the floor.

Cordelia considers her options—If she revealed who she was, he could kill her in an instant—there would be nothing stopping him from doing so. She had no idea how much her assassination was worth—not like it mattered. She buries her head into her arms, sighing greatly. Tears flow from her eyes, her demeanour flopping onto the table. She doesn’t care if he hears her cry—he deserves all the disruption she can cause. She’s sore, her head hurts, and she’s overtired.

Cordelia would remain this way for five solid minutes before she feels a tug on her shoulder.

<Cut it out, will you?>

<No.> Her throat catches on her demand. <I will not stop.>

<For hell’s sake…> He curses under his breath. <If you want the bed, go ahead and take it. I’ll do anything to stop hearing your whimpering.>

She remains silent, sharply turning from his view.

<You don’t have to give me the silent treatment.> She hears a rip, soon feeling her sore, yet free wrists free to move at her leisure. Her instinct was to thank him, but she wouldn’t dare. He was the one who tied her up in the first place. <There, now you can have a proper sleep.>

Cordelia doubted that was possible, but at least she was free to move her arms.

She glances over at the thief as he situates himself down on the mound of sheets covering the floor. How he can sleep on the dirty ground is beyond her. Ten minutes of pondering to herself, and she hears his soft, sleeping breaths—she couldn't believe her ears. Well, nice to know that he’s comfortable. She rolls her eyes, her gaze soon hovers on the open flame of the lantern. Her stomach was starting to churn… she had to find the key and escape. She’d wait ten minutes to ensure he’d fallen into the land of slumber. Then, she’d plot her escape. She might have looked like a frail princess, but she had the constitution and stubbornness to prove otherwise.

***

Cordelia awakes in a blissfully unaware state, expecting to see familiar surroundings adorn her gaze. Except, the sun was shining in a strange direction—and—oh god. She recalls everything that had taken place the night before.

She was supposed to escape! For the love of all things holy and good…

Her eyes nervously scan her surroundings—she’s afraid to make a sound. Her eyes grow wide as she notices a man—the thief that unceremoniously threw her over his shoulder—was next to her, her eyes latch onto his exposed definition. Her eyes trail downwards as she realizes …oh m-my.

For the love of all things holy.

This was not happening.

Who on heaven’s earth would sleep without any garments on?!

Cordelia carefully steps out of bed, attempting to ignore what her eyes were drawn to. To her credit, she had never seen a man this bare before, especially in her presence. No man was allowed to be near her unless she had a chaperone—with the exception of her father. Her thoughts visit him momentarily, feeling a pang of guilt when he would inevitably discover her empty bedchambers. He would be worried sick.

For heaven’s sake, enough sentimentality. She has to escape while he’s still asleep. Hopefully, she would be able to make a quick escape, and not alert the captor of her departure. Quickly, Cordelia gathers her courage and searches for the key. If she remembers properly, she saw him slip the key into his pocket. But that means she’d have to …stick her hand in the dirty pile of clothes, right next to him. She shudders as she feels the rough fabric against her soft hand. She does her best to hold a disgusted whimper when she fishes for the key. The cold smoothness of iron tickles the tips of her fingers—YES—she located the key!

Cordelia fails to withhold a gasp when the man stirs from his sleep—his soft groans momentarily please her ears. Her face flushes when his bare arm brushes against her hand. Cordelia snaps her eyes shut, in fear that divine intervention will occur and she’ll teleport from her very spot. She clutches her skirt, her eyes squint shut.

<Now, what do you think you’re doing?>

“Ah!” She screams in her native tongue.

She hears the thief stir in his covers, taking a deep breath as he stretches. The temptation to open her eyes was strong, but she remains in her stance, realizing her arm was still deep within the fabric of his clothes. If he had a temper, he might just off her now for her insolence.

Does she dare take a look at him?

Her stomach drops when she doe. His irises appeared brighter due to the morning light.

<No need to look so pained, it’s only I.> He chuckles.

She lowers her head in defeat, his exposed sun-kissed hip, right in her line of sight. She’s tempted to let out another squeal when she hides her blushing face with her free hand.

<Cover up for goodness’ sake!>

He raises a brow. <I have trousers on. I don’t see the problem.> He sounds mildly disappointed. <Especially when I know you’ve been eyeballing me.> Gently, his warm hand encapsulates her dainty wrist, removing it from the pile of clothing.

<I was not.> She huffs.

<You’re staring at me like I’m to be served off your silver platter. What would your fiancé think …unless, that was a lie?> His brow perks up. <Was that a ruse to scare me off?>

<It was no ruse.> She sharply turns from him, loosening her braid from her skull. <I told you before, there is a man.> This thief’s king to be exact.

<Hmm.> He hums as he moves closer, clearly testing her boundaries. <You know, you have quite a soft face, now that I have a proper look at you.>

<Don’t you dare get any ideas.> She points a finger at him. <I will have your hands chopped off.>

<By who’s authority?> He grins. <Your fiancé’s?>

<Y-Yes!> She bolsters up the courage, but her eyes are drawn to his chest once more. What has gotten into her?!

He leans in, as Cordelia’s heart pounds wildly; both from fear, and intrigue. She’s never been this close to a man before—especially without supervision. His violet eyes stare down at her. <How about this… For a kiss, I give you one item of your things.> He smirks. <Remember, I did untie you.>

<I-I will not!> She backs up, her cheeks red from embarrassment. She had never kissed a man in her life—she would not have her first kiss from this vile man—even if his presence was making her think all kinds of crazy, nonsensical things.

<Or your fiancé will have my head, rather?> He sighs, rolling his eyes. <Very well, I wouldn’t force you to do it.> He shrugs.

<I don’t see why you’ve taken an interest all of a sudden. You were complaining that you thought I was a loudmouthed shrew!>

<Yes, but that was before I realized that you’re quite pleasing to look at.> He briefly scans her up and down. She hears him mutter a damn under his breath—and he accused her of objectifying him?

<You can stop that behaviour right now.> He lets out a hearty laugh. <It’s not funny!> She lowers her brows. She wasn’t in a laughing mood.

<You noble folk are all the same.> He leans up, as Cordelia shamefully steals a glance. He was right… the thief was wearing pants. At any rate, It was rude to be so bare—especially in her presence.

<Cover yourself!> She demands.

<You need to reconsider your accusations, princess.> He mocks.

<I’m not the Princess!> She spits out.

<I never said you were.> He raises his brow in confusion. <Are you sane?>

Cordelia bites her lip. She had to remember that this man was on a princess hunt. Sooner or later, he might find out that she is legitimately that very princess he was ordered to kill. She gulps, it might be best if she made nice with him—but not too nice. She wasn’t about to trade her virtue for her freedom. But ...perhaps one small kiss wouldn't hurt.

<The sapphire bracelet in that satchel.> She demands. <Give me that, and we have a deal.>

The thief eagerly grabs the satchel and pulls out the bracelet. <This?>

<Yes.> It was the most expensive item she owned. If she could manage to escape his grasp, at least she could survive on the sale of the bracelet for a while.

<Okay, now that we got that cleared.> He works his arm around her, pulling her towards his lips. She winces, as he looks at her suspiciously.

<Do I stink?>

<No!> Far from it. She can feel the heartbeat in her ears—this was absolutely absurd.

<Don’t tell me …you’ve never kissed anyone before. What about that fiancé of yours?>

<Don’t be ridiculous!> She exclaims.

<At any rate, I promise I’ll be gentle.> He leans in, his lips inches away from hers.

<I-I am relaxed!> Her heart madly pounds against her chest, her gut churning in wild excitement. She could thank her parents for keeping her repressed for so long. She had to be convincing—which meant no more gasping, or jumping! Experienced women would do nothing of the sort!

He raises a brow. <This won’t be any fun if you’re going to be so haughty about it.>

Dammit. She couldn’t let him think she was some sensitive snowflake. She bolsters the courage and cups her hands around his stubbled face, pulling him into a liplock. Her lips tingle against his—as he takes initiative, massaging the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Her heart slams against her chest, her composure turning to mush as this man leads her on her back. Cordelia takes in the initiative, allowing him to dominate her. He breaks away momentarily, his violet eyes sparkling.

<God, you’re beautiful.> He murmurs against her mouth. Excitement fills her bones when he leans his weight on her, uncaring of the hard dirt ground she was pressed against. This …sensation—it was brilliant. How did she only discover this now?

She’s thrilled when he returns to her, his mouth devouring her own. She momentarily forgets that she’s locked in this horrid place, with the man who was hired to kill her.