Chapter 8

Arya

Arthur. So that’s the name of this man.

“Nice to meet you,” I mumble.

I know I should say my name or something, but I really don’t feel like telling this man anything about myself. I don’t like the arrogant aura emanating from him, and that smirk looks like trouble.

Although I must admit that he is extremely good-looking.

Sculpted, chiseled face. Straight, angular nose with a little bump on the bridge. Deep-set blue eyes that seemed to be piercing right through me. Curved lips that looked like they were made so smirk . . . and do other things that I don’t want to name.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says, extending his hand for a shake.

Reluctantly, I take his hand and shake it, but I quickly withdraw it when I feel him starting to trace circles around my skin.

“Arthur here is the best warrior in our kingdom,” King Samuel begins to explain. “He’s the youngest leader of our troops, and he teaches everyone all kinds of combat skills.”

Arthur smiles. “You flatter me, your Majesty.”

The