Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (25)

But I was that desperate.

Though maybe it wasn’t stupid at all. I’d be there. I’d be in Folkyn. I would not have to work for Madam Morin. I would not have to watch through our apartment windows as birds flew wherever they wished and I remained trapped.

Florian now stood close to the door, staring at me.

Perceptive or merely guessing wildly, he said, “You will wish for nothing, butterfly. You will have every comfort you need, including the protection of my court in your precious search for this home you desire. Just be mindful that should you find whatever that might be...” Flurries emerged, his words a cold and overt warning. “You will belong only to me.”

Before I could ask if I would have him, he was gone.

The answer to my unasked question became clear in his absence. He wouldn’t have sought a creature as desperate and foolish as me if he wished to belong to someone in kind.





As the following dawn lost its jeweled light, another sparrow arrived with a request to meet the king.

Having slept for only a handful of hours, I was already awake and surprised I’d slept that much given the never-ending spiral of thoughts and fears plaguing me.

Marriage. War. Queen.

Answers.

I stared at the small piece of parchment, at what I was sure was the king’s handwriting, and I knew. He would want my acceptance of his proposal tonight.

I should refuse. I shouldn’t have even been considering it.

Yet for some reason, the idea of turning down his offer filled me with more dread than the absurdly ridiculous idea of marrying him.

Trusting King Florian was not an option.

But neither was trusting that I could find a way to Folkyn on my own and survive. He was a risk with countless hidden and dangerous facets but also a guarantee. By agreeing to this, I would make it into Faerie.

I would finally be free of Crustle.

I donned a lime-green cotton dress that covered my arms, legs, and most of my chest. I brushed my hair but left it free and wild. Tonight, I would need to have my wits about me. Florian would not distract me by having me almost naked and at his mercy again, languid and pliant from pleasure.

The wind howled in greeting as soon as I stepped outside.

Fire within the street lamps flickered and swayed with the incoming storm. Smoke danced through the fogged dark as some extinguished. The light tap of my slippers upon the moss-dusted cobblestone matched the erratic beat of my anxious heart.

Though the hour was late and the weather had turned, the Lair of Lust was aglow. The grimy street-facing window gave view to patrons dancing and drinking at the bar. Briefly, I wondered what that might be like—to lose all inhibitions in such a way.

Then I pondered if I’d already experienced it beneath the touch and taste of a devious king.

More than a little distracted while entering the alleyway that led to the back of the pleasure house, I nearly jumped when a rat skittered out from behind a pile of waste and ran from the darkness toward the street.

Heart pounding, I choked on a laugh as I watched it go. My smile fell when boots appeared and stopped.

A male in a hooded cloak blocked the end of the alley.

I could see nothing of his shadowed features from where I stood, but I remembered those eyes. Eyes of bright and pure gold.

Fear fell into every sluggish heartbeat, a dragging gong in my ears.

About to ask him what he was doing here when he’d been with the Wild Hunt, I struggled to form words. He didn’t blink. His gaze held mine, and he didn’t move.

Move. The word was a punch to the gut. The stairs to the rear entrance were just a few short feet away, yet both of us stood so very still, seemingly trapped.

Laughter spilled onto the street from a group leaving the Lair of Lust via the main entrance. It broke my terror-frozen trance. I jerked backward.

The golden-eyed faerie took a step forward.

An owl flying overhead gave an ear-piercing screech, and I finally ran for the stairs.

I flew up them, not breathing and half expecting to be yanked back down by the cloaked male.

A male of whom I swore was the same one who’d been traveling with the hunt. The same male who’d sent me away after I’d watched that strange mist dissolve Rolina into nothing but the soil and grass she’d died upon.

I opened the door to the third floor and threw myself inside, then closed it and peered through the sliver of streaked glass in the wood to the stairs.

No one was there. At least, not that I could see.

The Wild Hunt did not return between their yearly visits.

Unease curdled within my stomach, weighing my steps down to the second floor. I didn’t linger on the third. Not only because I was in a hurry to escape the feeling of being hunted but also because I had no reason to use the dressing rooms.

I stopped beneath the stairs and leaned back against the wall, attempting to organize my scrambled thoughts.

Perhaps it hadn’t been the same male, and he was merely waiting for one of the employees of the Lair to leave.

Whoever he was, it didn’t matter. I had bigger things to tend to.

I smoothed my clammy hands over the bodice of my gown and continued down the hall to the room harboring a king.

With so many questions vying for answers, there was no controlling what left my mouth first. “Did you do all of that to me so I would be dazed and therefore more likely to agree to your needs?”

“Hello to you too, butterfly.” Florian gave me an amused glance over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed on my gown, and his lip lifted in disapproval. He turned back to the liquor cabinet. “You’ll be glad to know a dressing chamber filled with proper clothing awaits you.”