Flynn scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "So what? I'm a kept thief?"
Hans barely lifted his gaze from the book on the desk, his forest green eyes watching him from underneath his dark lashes. "Better a kept thief then a kept whore." The light from the fire flickered over his face, darkening the shadows under his gaunt cheeks. Now he lifted his eyes to his, a chill entering his tone. "That is what I saved you from, isn't it?"
Breaking away from the hold of Hans green eyes, Flynn studied the scratches in the wooden wall that showed beneath the tattered tapestries. Hans was right. Hans was always bloody right. It had been Hans that had shown him the way into the palace of Arendelle, and had allowed him to survive without using his body as a money-maker.
It was him and Hans. The kept thief and the disgraced prince.