That same morning, Ife, left with no choice, had to not only officially leave her bedroom for the first time in several weeks, but also share breakfast with Prince Arenor.

  She was honest enough with herself to understand that she actually did have a choice. However, she understood perfectly well that she had to do it, because last night she had already shown the Prince that she was strong enough to leave her room, which meant that not showing up at the next breakfast would be, at the very least, offensive to His Highness and, at worst, dangerous for her.

  Besides, she also understood perfectly well that one day she would have to face him anyway, so it was better to face the consequences of her actions and words with her head held high than with her tail between her legs.

  But as soon as she entered the dining room and saw Arenor's lips curve into a smile at the sight of her, Ife lost all her resolve.

  For a moment, she even thought about turning around and leaving, but the Prince's words prevented her from doing so:

  "My dear Airena has finally decided to honor me with her presence?"

  "I am not yours, not dear, and not Airena," she said irritably, sitting down at the table. "And certainly not your dear Airena."

  However, instead of starting her breakfast, she simply lowered her head and fell silent.

  Ife herself didn't understand what was happening to her; normally she would have just yelled at Prince, or worse, hit him. But now, she felt she couldn't even look him in the eye, let alone anything else. She felt wildly embarrassed even when she just thought about him, and that frightened her much more than if she had felt terror in his presence. After all, fear was a more familiar feeling to her, since she had lived with it constantly for many years, while embarrassment was new to her, and she had no idea what it meant or how to deal with it.

  Of course, there was no point in lying; she had already experienced embarrassment, and more than once — mostly when Irai teased her. But this embarrassment was completely different from what she was feeling now; and if feelings, like fruit, had their own varieties, then the embarrassment caused by Irai's teasing would be disgustingly sweet, while the embarrassment caused by Arenor's teasing would be horribly sour.

  "Since I found out last night that you're not eating enough," he said suddenly, with a slight smile on his face, "I asked the servants to prepare more food for you today. But don't eat too much, or you'll feel sick."

  Ife didn't understand his behavior at all; did he want to fatten her up like cattle for slaughter, or did he really care? She was sure it was the former, but despite that, she still felt the blood rush to her face again, like sea waves to the shore.

  She suspected that the reason for her behavior was the previous night.

  "I see you're feeling much better," he changed the subject, noticing her discomfort. "Don't you think it's time to start fulfilling your part of the deal?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "Deal?" Ife asked in confusion, finally lifting her head and looking the Prince in the eyes.

  "Don't tell me you've forgotten," he said, frowning with concern. "The deal that if I help you..." Arenor faltered, as if unwilling to finish the sentence. "Try to remember yourself."

  Ife replayed the last few days in her mind, but couldn't remember anything. But then she remembered her first day at the palace—the day she had been lying on the floor of the throne room, practically unconscious, so desperate that she was willing to agree to anything. Including the very deal Arenor was talking about.

  "Become your personal assassin?" Ife exclaimed. "I don't agree!"

  "But you already agreed," he reminded her; his tone was soft—so soft that it seemed as if he were talking to a child. "Besides, I've already fulfilled my part of the deal, so you owe me."

  "I'm not going to fulfill my part of the bargain like this!" she shouted even louder, feeling irritated by his condescension toward her. "Devote my life to the Prince, who may be the one who ordered my kidnapping and is responsible for my brother's death? No way!"

  "As I said, you have no choice; you've already agreed. Besides, I didn't say you had to serve me forever. But if you continue to object... I may decide to make you mine forever," there was no threat in his voice, only playfulness and mischief, which confused Ife even more.

  "Then I'll run away," she said sharply, looking him straight in the eye, suddenly emboldened enough to challenge the Prince.

  "And I'll catch you," Arenor replied without hesitation. "And I'll punish you for disobeying me."

  "Punishment? What punishment?" she asked, then flinched when she saw out of the corner of her eye one of the guards approach another and start acting out a scene of beating him until the latter gave him a slap on the back of the head. "What will they do to me?"

  "Don't worry, they won't touch you," he said reassuringly, glancing at Nasir, who was playing the fool. "But..." His cheeks suddenly flushed bright pink, just like last night. "...I will touch you."

  Ife was so baffled by the Prince's behavior and, in general, so shocked by everything that was happening that she simply couldn't utter a word, and all she could do was open and close her mouth in futile attempts to squeeze out at least a sound.

  "In any case," the Prince continued, "you can't just become my personal hitman. You need to train very, very hard for that. And since you're clearly feeling much better than before, that training will start today..."

  "What? But I—"

  "...and right now." Pause. "More precisely, right after you eat."

  Ife's face turned a deep red, but this time it wasn't because she was embarrassed, but because she was furious.

  "Are you out of your mind?" She grabbed the first piece of fruit she could find and threw it right at the Prince's face. "I don't agree!"

  "Oops," said Arenor, dodging it with ease. "You still have a lot of work to do on your aim," he teased her. "On the other hand, I'm glad you didn't throw a knife, because that means you like my beautiful face and don't want to disfigure it."

  "I didn't throw it not because I like your face, but because there is simply no knife on the table!" she shouted, blushing even more, this time also out of embarrassment.

  "I'm glad you like me," he said mockingly, completely ignoring her words. "But to my great regret," he said, getting up from the table, "I have a huge pile of work to do besides you," he walked to the dining room exit, "so even though you really want to continue playing with me, I have to leave. But I'll be back," he said and ran out into the hallway.

  "You—" Ife jumped up from the table and rushed toward him, but suddenly tripped over a chair leg. "Hey, come back right now!" she shouted again, but Arenor had already disappeared from her sight along with one of his guards.

  And now all Ife could do was eat her long-cold breakfast and listen to the echo of Arenor's warm laughter carrying throughout the royal palace.