"So."

Iximaz trembled as she stood before the dark throne. Admittedly, it wasn't quite as, well, dark as she'd been expecting - it was more of a pastel pink (with hot pink trimmings) - but still: the elf who sat (or lounged) in it was terrifying enough even if he was topless.

"So," Huinesoron said again, fixing Iximaz with a look, "you are... 'Iximaz'?"

Iximaz considered trying to deny it, but knew it would be futile: the eyes of the Eagleshade were everywhere. "Yes, my lord," she said, hearing the quaver in her voice. At that moment, she considered it a personal triumph that she hadn't fallen to her knees in tears.

Huinesoron tapped one long finger on the arm of his throne. "Rumours have reached me," he said. "Disturbing rumours. Rumours that you, Miss Iximaz, have claimed that my French is 'wrong'."

Iximaz's jaw dropped. "You... what?" She snapped her mouth shut as she remembered who she was talking to, but still had to shake her head. "My lord, with all possible respect... it is."

Huinesoron stood in a single graceful movement. His dark cloak (dark pink, Iximaz realised) fell back from his bare chest, fluttering in the air as he strode across the marble floor towards her. "Take it back," he growled.

"No." Iximaz somehow managed to stand her ground. "My lord, threats cannot change the facts."

"The facts?" Huinesoron scoffed. "You don't know the facts. You have no experience-"

"I'm experienced enough to-" Iximaz began, and then paled. She had interrupted Lord Huinesoron! There was no higher crime.

But Huinesoron didn't seem to care. "You have never witnessed my French," he said, his tone ominous. "But you shall." And with no further warning than that, he grabbed hold of the shaking Iximaz's arm, dragged her to him, and kissed her.

The kiss was in no way romantic. It was a demonstration of power and skill, and involved far, far more tongue than Iximaz would have expected. She tried to pull back, but not only would Huinesoron not let her, she didn't really want to. Before long, she was responding in kind, giving as good as she got.

Finally, Huinesoron pulled away, just as abruptly as he had begun. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then met Iximaz's gaze. "So," he said, "do you still dare speak ill of my French?"

Iximaz, breathing hard and trembling, looked up at him. "If I say yes," she managed, "will you do it again?"