There was hope, of a fashion - enough for Vayne to enjoy bringing some of its light to her eyes. Some hunters were known to give their marks an avenue of escape to better ensnare it. It was, after all, the hope of a peaceful surrender that maneuvered Dalmasca exactly where Vayne needed it. Hope was...useful.

"One alone? I suppose they must be very particular to you. A childhood friend? A brother, a sister?" His eyebrow lifted over that intense stare. "A lover?"

Now there was a thought that heated his blood. The wind had begun to pick up at his back, as warm and inviting as her curves. Vayne felt the magic laced in his body beginning to murmur, his muscles loose but eager.

Eager to take that hope and crush it. Eager to wring surrender from those lips.

"An amusing bargain, my lady. I accept. But should I prevail..."

He was not smiling. "You will pledge yourself to me. You will renounce your dear Princess Ashelia," he said, making no pretense of the vagrant princess' false name. "You will forswear Dalmasca. I will be your only kingdom. And you will ask me, by name, to bear you to that bed and take my pleasure."