Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (106)

I couldn’t have answered if I’d wanted to, and as the blade returned to make another circle over my shoulder blade, anger kept me conscious. And I knew, even if I did know anything, I would give them nothing.

They deserved nothing.

None of these assholes who’d taken advantage of me and my foolish heart would get a scrap of what they desired before my last breath left my lungs.

Sweat gathered at my nape as soon as the knife left my skin. Molkan tutted. “A shame. Truly such pretty skin.”

As if it mattered when I would be dead before I could worry about what horrors might forever scar my back.

My breath shook, and my legs twitched uncontrollably.

“How weak you are. You fed from him, didn’t you?” Molkan asked, and when I didn’t respond, he sighed and resumed his torment.

I must have lost consciousness.

I was slapped awake by his hand over my battered flesh, a whimper fleeing my clenched teeth. “Feeding from humans is one thing, but to feed from your own kind when the consequences can be so fatal...”

My ears rang, barely hearing his words. Deep grooves in my palms from my nails leaked blood when I uncurled them and drew in a breath that choked.

“Lilitha went mad, you know. First from abstaining from her mate and then from drinking from another when she’d bound herself to me. Blood is a poison that ruined her, and she had no one to blame but herself.”

Confusion warred with blistering agony as I tried to match what he’d told me during our walks throughout the palace grounds with what he’d just said.

So gently, it hurt, the male who’d sired me swept his fingers over the wet mess of my back.

Over the blood.

“This is but yet another result of her rash and bold decisions.” A chuckle, both dry and light, preceded his next words. “My, how she would enjoy the unending mayhem she caused.”

Avrin cleared his throat.

Molkan ignored him. “That is why the court of Hellebore is cursed—damned by Mythayla herself for their immoral acts. Nothing but death and doom blooms in the winter realm, and giving yourself to another in such a way will only damn you, too.”

Avrin shifted.

Another laugh from Molkan. “But I suppose it already has. Just look at you.” The tip of his knife dug into my skin, then he pulled. “Weak and filthy creature.”

Mercifully, I lost consciousness.

When I came to, it was to the sound of a foreign and urgent voice. “...been poisoned. Blood froths from every orifice.”

Molkan cursed. “Nulbon’s gone?”

“Yes, Sire. But they timed the concoction well, for he was sent back to deliver a message before he ceased breathing.”

“And?” Avrin clipped. “What is the message?”

“He comes.” A harsh swallow. “And a sparrow arrived just minutes ago from Chip, who says the outposts along the border are nearly empty. The frost moves southeast.”

I didn’t open my eyes. I hadn’t the energy, and to do so would bring forth more punishment. I had no desire to even remain awake as every inch of my torso throbbed in fiery waves.

“Ready the encampments,” Molkan said after a long moment.

“Sire?” the messenger questioned, a touch of alarm in his voice.

“We won’t need them. She will be long gone before the frost can even cross the marshes.”

The door closed, and the sound of shifting opened my eyes. Boots, drops of blood speckling the rounded leather toes, laced around tight brown britches.

Avrin still stood before me. “She’s awake,” he said.

“Let us resume,” Molkan said, as though he hadn’t just been given word that armies were potentially heading toward his kingdom’s most populated territory.

I didn’t delude myself into thinking Florian’s decision to march upon Baneberry had anything to do with me. Rather, I was willing to wager I was positioned perfectly for the next stage in his meticulous planning.

I was the excuse he needed.

Providing the news delivered to the king was even true. Judging by what Molkan had said, this was not the first time the royal city of Bellebon anticipated an attack from the winter king.

“Where does he intend to strike first, Tullia?” Avrin asked. Then, “The city or the surrounding towns and villages?”

I said nothing, and though I’d braced for it, the return of the knife to my skin was worse than ever before as it carved through torn flesh and marred the rest in a vicious circle.

Molkan’s patience had come to an end. “Wake her up.”

“She is awake.”

I finally drew a breath, a cry leaving with it.

Avrin asked with a hint of his own impatience, “Where are Florian’s spies hiding, Tullia?”

I blacked out again right as the blade left my skin after another circle was made upon my other shoulder blade.

A light tap on my arm brought me back—brought everything screaming back without mercy. My entire body shook, my teeth clacking with each trembling breath.

Crouching before me, Avrin lifted the curtain of my hair. The gentle action was a painful contrast to the agony he’d helped inflict. “Answer,” he said, almost pleaded. “This is not a brand you want to wear, Tullia. Answer, and it will cease.”

“I cannot answer,” I rasped through my teeth and groaned as my back spasmed, “when I do not have the information you fucking seek.”