"Good morning, Fenrin."

"If you say so."

"Sleep well?"

"I'd sleep better if I wasn't on the floor in chains."

"Hmmm, but that wouldn't be good for my peace of mind. A woman needs her beauty sleep you know," Jayln teased pushing in his daily meal.

Fenrin didn't pick it up, instead moving up and leaning against the bars. Casually, Jayln took a step back.

"I may not sleep well, but being in here is real good for thinking."

"Oh?"

He starred her right in the eyes and gave her his wolfish grin. "Yeah, I've got a solution."

The corner of her lips twitched up, no doubt expecting a smart remark or joke. "I'm listening."

"Marry me."

Jayln's eyes grew wide and she sputtered, "What?!"

Fernin stretched his arms out. "Marry me! Make an alliance between your village and my new crew, separate from Bryn and Lyra's men. They won't mess with us, we use your village's jitsu to make a small elite team to protect ourselves, and you can keep a close eye on me, trust or no trust."

Jayln had been about to force an awkward laugh but, seeing he was serious, she just gaped. She fumbled back, finding the chair and sitting down. She rubbed her nose bridge and Fenrin watched, awaiting her positive answer.

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"I can't marry you."

Fenrin blinked, suddenly wondering if he'd been beat to the ticket. "You're already...?"

"No, no, I'm not married. I just can't marry you."

"My chains and prison cell not good enough for you?" he joked, still trying to find the flaw in his plan. From what he'd seen of Jayln, she was clever. Surely she realized the benefit.

If he saw enough value in her and her people to marry her, than it wasn't likely he would murder her outright. In which case, she would have all the room in the world to influence him and share resources. She and, through her, the village would be protected by the Brynson name.

"Fenrin." She looked at him, face serious, mouth a thin line. "I don't think your idea and my idea of marriage are the same. To my people, it's not something taken lightly. Your spouse become your partner, your right arm and your theirs. You work together towards the same goal, sharing equal responsibility. If you were my husband, what could I share with you? We would be using each other to further our own goals, not working towards the same one."

“Ah”, Fenrin thought, trying to reconcile this definition with his own experiences, “she's worried I'd work against her.|”

Every marriage had a hierarchy. Dyla never disobeyed Bryn, never disobeyed an order. Her goal was Bryn's happiness. Even Lyra's relationship didn't have opposing sides—not that her man slave had much of a choice about it. Jayln didn't trust Fenrin to let her run her village.

"Jayln, I have my own plans outside of your village. Things would continue here just as they are but safer. I have no desire to stay here, you can trust that."

"What? No, Fenrin..." She waved her hands vaguely. "It's not about trust—though I don't trust you—it's about love and shared purpose."

Fenrin resisted snorting at her idealistic definition. He hadn't pegged her as a daydreaming girl waiting for her prince charming. He'd thought she was practical. "Well then I hope you find the perfect man to share your shared purpose of getting destroyed by forces stronger than your little village."

His voice was rising. "You'd better go fetch this men you love and hurry to come up with a plan." Jayln bit her lip as Fenryn's voice grew low and cutting. "For someone so interested in peace, you sure do refuse a lot of olive branches."

For a moment they stood there, the air between them thick and heavy until Jayln left Fenrin alone with his unproductive thoughts.