Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (35)

I frowned at the steward, as I was not a guest, and that was not true. At least, not entirely. Stepping forward again, I smiled and said, “It was delicious, thank you.”

The intimidating male who’d been throwing commands blinked at me with large brown eyes. His matching hair was secured in a low ponytail by a black ribbon at his thick nape. Slowly, he looked from me to the steward, then he came to retrieve the plate from me. “You did not finish it.”

“I’m not used to such large servings,” I said softly, hoping my voice did not quake from his nearness.

But he gently took the plate and glass in his long fingers and nodded once. His golden features seemed a little drawn as he stared at me for a long moment before saying, “Then I will ensure your next meals are smaller to give you time to adjust.”

The steward made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a scoff.

The male with my plate glanced at him with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded to me once more and disposed of my dinner’s remains.

I was unsure what else to do, so I smiled at the other males and realized they were twins. One of them grinned brightly; the other glared and assessed me as if I were an insect who’d snuck inside his home.

“I am Kreed, and these are my sons, Thistle and Arryn.”

Without a name to give them, all I could say was, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Kreed smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes. Something akin to concern pulled at his mouth when his sons snickered to one another, and I turned from the room.

Upon reaching the first floor, I couldn’t help but remark aloud, “That was...” I gazed down into the humid gloom of the stairs. “Odd.”

Olin laughed, short and barked.

I frowned but hurried after him down the hall.

“It is you who is odd, changeling,” he said as he left me at the grand staircase that would deliver me to my rooms.

I watched him go, unease quickening my heart and keeping my feet still.

I was accustomed to being disliked, to being loathed, even, and I hadn’t expected to be treated as though I was a much-needed addition to this royal house.

That wasn’t what unsettled me.

It was the tension that stalked the halls. A reek of secrets and ghosts. It was the inescapable feeling that no matter who I was—a soon-to-be queen or a changeling—I would not be welcome here.

The war-hungry king had his secrets, this I knew. I’d thought I could get by without learning them. That I could find comfort in his realm without learning all of who he was.

Now, I couldn’t help but worry that I’d been wrong.





The following morning, a walk of the grounds revealed a frozen lake far beyond the stables, but it failed to clear the uncertainty.

An uncertainty that haunted my dreams and sprouted thorns with the king’s absence.

Florian had already indulged so many of my curiosities. Though each time he had, I was left with more questions and concerns that wouldn’t be revealed until his presence no longer clouded my judgment.

Marriage wasn’t something I’d ever thought too much about. While I was not opposed to the idea, I had harbored grand ideals of falling in love numerous times first. I never thought I’d one day agree to wed someone before I had experienced many lovers.

I was attracted to Florian. That much had been made abundantly and embarrassingly clear during the first moments I’d laid eyes upon him.

But one needed a heart in order to fall in love, and Florian...

If he had a heart, he’d hidden it too deep beneath his ice-crafted armor.

The longer his absence from this place he called home, the more I realized there was no care behind his actions. No empathy. Certainly no concern. There was only a ruthless and incredibly Fae-like interest to amuse himself while ensuring he received everything he desired.

And I was unassuming and insignificant enough to fit those desires.

There was no going back now, and though this attraction had grown claws and teeth that seemed to sharpen with every encounter the king deigned to give me, I didn’t want to.

I reminded myself that I was right where I needed to be to see to my own desires. So any befuddlement and useless wonderings would need to be cast aside and ignored.

The stable hand was in the paddocks with two giant horses, similar or perhaps the same as the beasts who’d hauled our carriage through Hellebore to this estate. More of them shifted and nickered as I crept through the rear door of the stables and into the dark.

The building appeared to be constructed from thick layers of wood to keep the freezing gusts from entering. Eight horses eyed me. All of them monstrously tall and seemingly taken aback by my presence.

“Hello,” I whispered, unsure why. Perhaps not to startle them.

Crossing the hay-dusted stone between the rows of large watching eyes, I marveled at how big the beasts truly were.

Intimidating, certainly, though not enough to stop me from offering my hand to a dark gray mare. She sniffed my chilled fingers, then nudged them away with a grunt.

“Bluebell won’t humor anyone without a treat first.”

My stomach flipped.

I spun to find Florian behind me, who’d entered soundlessly through the rear door I’d left open.

Dipping my head, I smiled. “Majesty.”

He straightened from the stall of a stallion and unfolded his arms. “Florian.”