He did not yet know that Rostislav had been taken in the middle of the night, did not yet know that his warden was drugged and beaten, unconscious in a Solterran cell. This perhaps saved Coraline from an encounter with Reichenbach at his worst, saved her from the tempestuous fury that would build in his broad chest at the news - for today, in the early dawn light, he was feeling quite clear-headed. He mulled over the problems that were arising: the visible changes in Solterra's army... were they preparing for war or simply preparing for the worst?

He thought also of the upcoming festival between Dusk and Night, the organisation that it would take, the patience and the preparations. He thought of Florentine, her honey skin like living light in the orange glow of flames, her hair throwing violet flowers through the humid air. The Night King had such dreams in his eyes, such hope in his heart, that he did not see the button-eyed girl coming.

Whoomph.

She hit his side and Reichenbach jumped, though he didn't appear to shift at all upon his neat hooves. She was like a dainty feather against the bulk of him, delicate and fearful as she backed away. Reichenbach slid his silver gaze to her as she backed up, lashes brushing against his rough cheekbones. 

"I doubt either of us taste good,"

He began in surprise, musical voice low and humored,

"But out of you and I, I think you'll find you're a much more desirable morsel" 

His laugh boomed through the mountains, a wild, loud thing that was impossible not to smile at. As his laughter died down, Reichenbach smiled, warmth emanating from him like the heat from the early dawn sun. 

"I am Reichenbach, Sovereign of The Night Court."

His gaze stayed upon her delicate button eyes, wondering, considering, welcoming. 

"And your name?"

There was a sweetness to her that Reichenbach envied, an innocence that was impossible to retrieve once lost. His silver gaze didn't leave her face as she trembled, her dainty head lowering in something like self-loathing. 

A nobody. Reich smiled at that, emanating warmth and welcome as he corrected;

"There are no nobodies in this world, only those who have not yet found their calling."

His voice vibrated with an earnestness that told too much - he, too, had thought himself worthless at a point. When he had been a child and awoken with nothing but a string of coins to tell him that his mother had cared, or at least cared enough to leave him a worthless heirloom. His sire hadn't bothered to stick around to see his birth - and hadn't done so with any of children, for Fate had not been a kind man, nor a caring one. His mother had stayed only long enough to ensure that he would not die - and then vanished. As a child, it had been a hard experience. 

Yet the now-King of Denocte had chosen to ignore the faithlessness of his parents and found his own way in the world, one full of thievery and laughter, of chaos and contentedness. He was the King Crow. The original orphan boy. The Orphan King, some called him, and he embraced that name with vigour and pride - an orphan, but never a nobody. He thought as much about Coraline as he watched her, grown but shaking, beautiful and yet she could not see it. 

"Well...."

The Night King began, glancing back toward the direction of the lake. 

"If you have nowhere to be, sweet Coraline, would you like to see more of Calligo's lands?"