Fit to be Queen [Sinbad x OC]

part three

"You cannot defeat me." Sinbad smirked as he arched over the smaller girl who seemed to be very bad at her job.

He gripped Iris's thigh and pressed his arm to her neck just as she had to him moments prior, but he was much gentler with no intent to hurt her. However, all pleasantries and friendliness were entirely gone from his demeanor.

"Maybe not." She scowled, but her silver eyes were cold with bitterness. "But I will kill you."

The King squeezed the fleshy, soft skin of her upper thigh and uncovered her neck, using the free hand to run it through her thick, magenta-colored locks. His gaze lightened and became playful once more.

"Maybe another day." He hummed, more so to himself than the girl beneath him. "For now..." He clutched the wrist of her dominant hand and brought it to his mouth, flashing a toothy grin and meeting her startled eyes before licking the blood that had run down her palm. "... we need to take care of these wounds."

She squeaked and wrenched her hand from the stronger man, her face red with embarrassment. She didn't understand this man at all, and all he seemed to care about was toying with her.

"Come on." He said lazily, standing up and offering his hand to the flustered girl.

She huffed and refused it, getting up on her own, though not without noticing the stinging in her foot.

They didn't have to go too far to reach the suite reserved for the "aid to the King." Iris had no idea what this meant. She had no idea what her role was or what was expected of her, or even if this was all happening. It was all too odd, confusing, and irritating.

The quarters were very similar to Sinbad's own, though slightly smaller in area and less ornamented, but it didn't mean it was any less grand.

He led Iris to the loveseat in the sitting portion of of the suite and pushed on her shoulders to get her to sit down. She was tense and guarded, feeling like the victim in the hands of her own target.

He disappeared for a minute, then returned with a wet towel. He kneeled in front of her and placed her injured foot in his lap. He soaked the cuts with the warm, damp towel, and picked tiny shards of glass from her skin.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "Why are you...?" She trailed, unsure of what exactly to ask.

The King looked her directly in the eye with a serious golden gaze, but his royal grin never faltered. "Why are you trying to kill me?" He didn't seem the least bit concerned but was more intrigued and amused than anything else.

She opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off.

"I know it's not about the money." He smirked. "People that are guided by power and money have a particular kind of look in their eye. I also see that you have no precise urge to kill for the sake of killing. Those are the only two kinds of people who work as assassins." He began to tear the fabric of his clothes to wrap Iris's foot, and then he nudged closer to her to attend to her hand. He met her gaze again and said, "I don't think you really want to kill me."

Sinbad seemed to be challenging her. But she recognized that, in fact, he was absolutely right.

She never had a specific desire to be an assassin, and the only thing that made her come after the notorious King was his status and reputation. She didn't need the bounty, for most of her rewards went to others in more need than she was. She also never liked to kill, but she wasn't really bothered by it, either. There was a reason her targets had a bounty on their heads; they were never especially likeable.

But she was in too deep and far too stubborn to give up on the goal she set for herself.

"That is why I've appointed you as my 'aid.'" All serious air dissipated as he cleaned the cuts on her hand. "I don't think you will, or really can kill me."