[The king's power enthralls Lucien in kind. Nothing about this creature is like his High Lord, except for the breadth of his magic. He exhales softly, wrapping his hands around the other's waist, relieved to move away from the question of his fealty.] You seem to know everything about me, your Majesty.

[Later, Lucien will be horrified and confused at this display. But here, now, eyes half-lidded and brain all foggy, he nudges his nose into the leaves and flowers of the dryad's cape. Are they part of his body like the rose from his hand? He tips his head, sweeping his hair to one side in a fluid motion to give the Fae better access to his neck while he rests his cheek on the king's shoulder, delicately ghosting his lips on the petals nearest to him, curious and soft.]

Very well.... My last time was on Calanmai. [A springtime fertility festival in his realm. There's no shame in the murmured admission, only tender intimacy of it.] Not this past year, but the one before. Nearly two years ago.

Will you give me a name to call you in return?