[ That earns an irritated click of his tongue before he grabs the chain on her neck to pull her up. This woman... just what in the world is she? Even with literal death staring at her in the face, she doesn't even even flinch or break her stride.

... perhaps this woman really is someone of worth after all with this much nerve, but still not good enough to be part of what would be considered his bride just yet. So as soon as she is up to her feet, he presses his forehead hard against hers with that nasty leer of his before breaking away. ]

Don't make threats you'll be unable to keep. Much less with a growing chance of a cut tongue. [ And with a forceful tug, he moves away from the throne and pulls along the chain for Beatrice to forcefully come along with him to their next location now that the intended business for the throne room is over. And for what its worth, the servants were muttering to themselves on the surprise turn of events of the usual result that tends to happen and how their king seems to be responding as such.

Of course that talk was silenced when the weapon from Beatrice's torso shot out from her body and squarely hit a maid at the forehead, leaving a nice clean up mess for the rest to take care of. ]

Come. I'll take you to your living quarters and then we'll begin with whatever play you wanted to do.