"Why would that be undesirable?" he asked, bristling. "Black Moon Draw has the most beautiful lands of any kingdom and a warrior-knight worthy of any woman in any world, not to mention coffers of gold and gems."
"I don't really care about gold or power or whatever," she replied. "When you conquer the world, you'll just sell me anyway. I'm not really looking forward to that."
He laughed, suddenly aware of where she was coming from. He had meant the idea of selling her as a jest, one she clearly did not understand.
His battle-witch looked at him in clear disapproval.
"Nay, Naia. I do not intend to sell you," he said, shaking his head. "Although I may make you my queen."
"Your what?" She stopped walking, staring at him.
The Shadow Knight turned to face her. "The warrior-queen of Black Moon Draw."
"Are you proposing?"
"Proposing?" he echoed with disdain. "I propose naught. If I choose to take you as my queen, then I shall, and you will obey the command."
Her face was red again. There was anger in her gaze, along with a different kind of fire. "You can't just ditch the woman you're betrothed to or force me to marry you."
Aye, there is that. But his betrothed would not be his betrothed when the war was over. His oath of secrecy prevented him from revealing the truth. "Very well. You will become my mistress," he reasoned.
"Absolutely not! I'm not some back up! Is this because I know your name?"
"Nay. 'Tis because you belong here, or you wouldn't have been sent to me."
"You can't do that to your princess. I won't let you hurt her like that by breaking it off with her or hiding away some woman on the side! What happened in the tower was a mistake, one that can't happen again."
He snatched her arm and pulled her to face him. "I do not make mistakes, Naia. Should I choose to claim you as my queen or mistress, I will do so."
Her mouth opened and then closed. Wordlessly, she yanked free and climbed the rocks blocking their path from the top of the cliff and stopped.
"My god," she breathed.
He hurried to join her and scoured the familiar territory that was his. "What is it?" he asked, seeking out some enemy or other cause for her alarm.
"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Like a cross between Scotland and New Zealand. Ruled by an absolute asshole."
He chose to ignore her slight, angry with her the way she was with him. Assuming the names he had never heard of were from her world, he relaxed, gaze sweeping across the landscape he had known since he was a child. Rolling hills coated by emerald grass that clung to them like moss filled the peninsula, leading up to jagged purple-blue mountains in the near distance. The scent of his home always made something melt inside him, the sweet clover grass welcoming him home from battle.