“Cower more,” Ulrica muttered.

“Oh, aye. I shall cringe and grovel at your bejeweled feet.” The infuriating boy’s gaze flicked briefly to the dagger in her hand. “When you need me less.”

She bared her fangs.

He smirked and went back to ignoring the threat she posed in favor of carefully removing rubble.

Ulrica’s rage simmered just below the surface, but on an entirely different level, she was pleased. He noticed. The pedicure had taken her hours, but she considered time well spent....