The oaken door swung open with a creak, guided by spectral hands, and she floated lightly into the room with her gossamer gown flowing behind her. “And what shall it be tonight, my Lord?”
The King reclined in the royal bed, reading. “For nearly three years you come to my chambers and attempt to seduce me, and every night I refuse you—”
“To my continued amazement.”
He snorted. “The price is too high.”
“I have named no price, my Lord.”
“My soul? My kingdom? Whatever it might be, I know there is a price, and that it is too dear.”
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