Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (104)

The male with orange-flecked brown eyes laughed, a tobacco stem hanging from wine-red lips. His laughter ended with unexpected swiftness as his fingers uncoiled and he backhanded me across the face.

I met the bars again, the room twirling as I contemplated giving in entirely. As I fought the temptation to just lay there and let them all do as they wished.

I saw her then.

A row of portraits hung at the back of the room, half covered in shadow, but I was only interested in one.

A portrait of a queen with a tiny silver crown and large hazel eyes. Her cheeks were rounded and high just like my own. Though cropped to her shoulders in voluminous curls, her near-white hair was just like mine, too. Her nude-lipped smile was guarded grace.

My mother.

An onslaught of flapping wings and birdsong dragged my wet eyes to the ceiling.

I was asleep—surely.

Flocks of birds, many dark, many white and gold, and many an assortment of colors and sizes, entered the glassless arched windows.

Molkan’s guests cursed and waved their arms as the birds circled the throne room twice before leaving the way they’d come. As more cursing and laughter echoed in their wake, I watched them fly away and wondered if they would be the last thing I’d see.

The puffy-faced male with bulbous eyes who studied me while he drank looked to his left before stalking into the thick crowd.

A screech sounded. A hand clasped my ankle.

Instinct pushed me up, my hands slapping blindly at whoever had been so daring as to pull me from the cage.

Avrin’s gold eyes were visible through the tears in my own.

He stood there and waited until I calmed, but I couldn’t calm. I doubted I’d ever feel calm again, and that was if I somehow survived this place and its people.

A brown cloak fringed in forest green was tossed over me.

I didn’t hesitate. My hands shook as I rushed to cover myself as best I could with the soft material.

Avrin extended his hand.

I glared at it, then at all the guests still sneering and staring at me, and swallowed. Ignoring his offer, I slid to the edge of the cage, forgetting it had been placed on a podium and nearly falling to the floor as my legs failed me.

Avrin caught me beneath the arm before my knees hit the hard ground. He guided me through the slow-to-part onlookers toward an arched doorway filled with shadows in the back corner of the grand room.

I was taken down a hall and then another, then down a spiraling set of stone stairs carved from the earth into near darkness. Two sconces lit an entryway to a dungeon. A sour-faced guard stood waiting between them.

“Avrin,” I said as the guard stepped aside, but my voice broke. “Avrin, wait.” I knew if I was placed in a cell, I would likely not leave until it was time to meet my end.

He ignored me and led me past the twin rows of empty cells.

“This is all a mistake. I’m not a spy, and I’m not Florian’s wife. Whoever told you that is lying.”

He stopped at the last cell, then opened the iron bars and released me into the dank space that housed nothing but a rotting cot.

Avrin didn’t speak until the grate was closed, and I was trapped behind it. “You heard what the king said.”

“But none of it was true.” I reached for the bars and hissed when they singed the tips of my fingers.

“Florian has requested your return,” Avrin said, toneless. His golden gaze roamed over me, and I clutched the cloak tighter.

His cloak, I noted, judging by the scent. That he’d given me that much meant he might be the only one I could reason with.

He spoke before I got the chance to think of a convincing argument. “If I were you, I’d give your father anything he desires so that you’re not sent back to your soulless beast of a husband in pieces.”

The word husband was another slap to the face.

I shook my head. “What is the point, Avrin? Molkan will kill me.” I knew it within my bones. There was now no leverage to be gained with my existence—only with my death.

Avrin said nothing, apparently waiting to see what else I might divulge.

“I didn’t know.” I swallowed as a spell of dizziness arrived, and leaned against the cold stone beside me to keep upright. “I didn’t know we were married.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Avrin glowered and stepped closer, growling low, “What is your plan, Tullia? Tell me what Florian has sent you here to do, and I swear I will do what I can to get you out of this alive.”

“I have no plan because I did not know,” I gritted, tears leaking from my eyes. My voice softened with dismay. “I didn’t. I had no fucking idea, Avrin. He had me blood-sworn before he brought me to Hellebore, and I assumed the contract was merely an agreement to marry, not the actual...”

“Marriage contract,” he finished for me, brows crinkled.

I nodded, my throat tight. “I didn’t even know who Molkan was—that he was my father. Florian never told me. I found out when one of your spies was captured and brought to the estate to be tortured, and I snuck into the dungeon.”

Avrin’s frown deepened. “Frensroth.”

“Yes,” I said.

“His head was delivered to Molkan amid a wagon of fresh produce riddled with his bones. Straight to the palace gates.”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t thought I’d still have the ability to be horrified. Nevertheless, my blood churned, and my stomach quaked. Exhaustion, heavy and unexpected, followed.