At most, Fenric thought he might earn her a favor—maybe a temporary alliance—for saving her and her pretty neck. But this? He hadn't asked for it. He didn't want it.
And yet…
"What a worrysome brat," a sudden, snorting voice grumbled from the depths of his mind. "She might be a bit screwed in the head, but she's strong—too strong. You can feel it, can't you? That pressure… Like getting tasted by something that doesn't care if you're prey or plaything."
"Duserdis…" Fenric sighed, recognizing the rough, dragon-scorched voice of the ancient spirit sleeping in his Mana sea.
Still, the words struck a chord. Fenric leaned back, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.
He didn't know Mavis's real game. But something told him… this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
As long as he survived it.
"…Well," he muttered under his breath, "I guess I'll just have to live through it."
****
