Fit to be Queen [Sinbad x OC]

part four

As promised, Sinbad returned to Iris's chambers later that afternoon. He knocked and entered, not waiting for any reply from the girl.

"Iris?" He asked, trying to listen for a response.

He felt a sudden force on his back, pushing him to the floor as fabric was wrapped around his neck.

The girl stood above him, one foot on his back and one on his arm. She had a blanket around his neck and clutched the other side tightly.

With his free hand he effortlessly grabbed one side of the sheet and yanked it, pulling the girl to the ground, switching their positions and subduing her.

"I appreciate the resourcefulness." He mentioned with a smirk, "but you're getting sloppy."

"Whatever." She huffed.

"Maybe you're getting too close to me." He joked, brushing her dark locks from her face. "Fondness makes people soft."

"I am certainly not fond of you." She retorted.

He ran a hand along her cheek. "That's no good. Where's the feisty and confident assassin that followed me to my bedroom?"

She looked away and pouted.

"Don't tell me I have to threaten you to bring it out." His voice lowered, and he dropped his head closer to the girl's soft neck, the opposite side of where he previously bruised her. His lips hovered over her skin.

"No!" She squealed. He won. She was flustered and embarrassed.

He chuckled and got off of her, standing to his feet and like he had done so many times before, offered his hand to her to help her up as well.

But Iris stayed on the ground, defeated and disappointed. "What are you doing, Sinbad?"

"Uh, King Sinbad to you, miss Iris." He corrected. He silently admitted to himself that he liked to hear the sound of his name coming from her. It wasn't particularly high or low, resting in a comforting range with warm tone, touched by a hint of roughness.

She didn't say anything, just looked at him to press for a response.

"I'm giving you a 'place.'" He said before taking a seat on one of the chairs.

"I don't need a 'place.'" She stated, still laying on the ornamented rug.

Sinbad sighed. "That first night you came to kill me, you didn't have murderous intent or lust for money and power in your eyes. You can see when that's something that drives people. No, in your eyes..." He trailed, looking into her expectant silver orbs. "You looked lost."

"Are you my shrink, now?" She furrowed her brows, casually wondering 'who the hell does this guy think he is?' to herself and stifling a chuckle.

He shook his head and released a quiet laugh. "No. I once had the same look in my eye," he began. "I just didn't realize it was there until it was gone, and I had my place: Sindria."

"Wow. Guess it's honesty hour." She muttered, slight sarcasm present in her words.

"Sindria has become a place for many others, too. I created it to be so. The Eight Generals are examples of that."

"So the Eight Generals were a whole bunch of lost boys and girls that you rescued?" She sat up, genuinely engaging in the conversation with a raised brow.

"Not exactly. I was more of the 'lost boy.' I respect them, and I do not look down on them as 'rescued.'" He wore a gentle grin, but his golden eyes were serious. "Sindria can be a place for you, too, Iris."