Gwendolyn fixed him with a stare that would have withered the stoutest oak. "And where do I factor into this fantastical quest, pray tell? You forget your place, dog."
He fought to keep his expression earnest, devoid of tells that could betray his subterfuge. "The last I had heard, the Cysgodol warred and claimed Hintherlands as their domain. Your kin took the boy prisoner in those blood-soaked campaigns of land and conquest." He spoke with deliberate care, watching the effect of each word upon her countenance.
For a beat, Gwendolyn could only gape at him in stunned outrage. When at last she found her voice, it dripped with blistering venom.
"You brazen, despicable wretch! You would have me commit treason most foul - free one of my father's prisoners from his righteous grasp?" Her eyes
