Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (45)

I hadn’t realized I was still staring at his throat until a plate of squid was set before me. A glowing salad, drizzled with a sauce that smelled like nutmeg and ginger, was piled alongside it.

Florian sniffed and prodded at each dish until he was satisfied it was safe, uncaring if Don or his daughter watched from the kitchen.

While we ate, I thought of Snow and failed to hide the bite of panic in my voice when I asked, “Did someone feed the cub?”

Ever the refined king, Florian finished chewing while giving me an amused look.

He swallowed and dropped his gaze to his food. “I told you it would be taken care of.” He cut into the squid, his eyes darker when they lifted to mine. “You do not trust me to keep my word?”

His question should have been answered with a confident and instant yes.

Instead, I said around a mouthful of food, “I trust you do not like that I disobeyed you and brought her to your stables.”

I felt his stare like the burn of the sun while I focused on my meal. After a moment, he said, “You surprise me.”

“I don’t mean to offend.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Oh. I swallowed and gulped some wine, pondering what he did mean.

As we came close to finishing our meals, I then pondered how to broach the subject of the news he had yet to tell me.

As though feeling my itch to ask, the king’s eyes rose from my plate to meet mine.

I was thankful my voice sounded more confident than I felt. “You said you have news regarding my family.”

Again, Florian took his time chewing. He then set his cutlery down and dabbed at his mouth with a silver napkin. “They are not in my kingdom,” is all he said.

My stomach sank with my heart.

I’d known there was a good chance anyone who shared my bloodline would not reside here in Hellebore. For if they did, then surely, the king would have sought them out upon first learning what I desired most from Faerie.

“Finish your meal, butterfly.”

I’d eaten most of it, and I was now far more interested in the wine than anything else. “I’ve had enough to eat, Majesty,” I murmured, and brought the glass to my mouth to drain it.

He watched me place it on the table, that familiar tic to his jaw. “Florian.”

I should have smiled and said his name, as per what was growing usual, but I couldn’t find it within me to care at that moment.

If my family wasn’t here, then I would need to find a way to discover where they were. That, or I would need to travel to the other kingdoms of Folkyn—Oleander, Baneberry, and Aconite. Doing so would be no easy task, being that this king I’d agreed to marry said I was confined to his kingdom because he was in conflict with one of them.

We were settling into the carriage when I dared to finally ask him, “Which realm are you feuding with?”

Florian’s gaze was bright with incredulity as it swept to me.

But I held it and said, “If I am to search for answers, then it would be helpful to know which kingdom I should avoid looking at first.”

His shoulders sat tight and high, the name almost gritted. “Baneberry.”

We lurched forward, and I stared at the clean and sharp lines of his profile as he stared at the closed driver window. He knew I watched him, yet he looked straight ahead and said nothing more.

He did not reach for me once during the short journey through the streets and up the mountain to the manor.

Something about his silence felt venomous, as though it were both a punishment and for my own good. I felt neither grateful nor remorseful. If anything, I grew more irritated and confused the longer this game of affection and rejection continued.

There was plenty Florian wasn’t telling me. I knew that. I’d known it since I’d first pressed my mouth to his in that pleasure house. I just hadn’t expected it to bother me this much—to eventually crawl under my skin and prod like a parasite that might kill.

I was merely insurance for his kingdom. I was to be his dutiful wife. I would likely be expected to provide him with an heir or two at some point, too.

But I was not permitted to truly know him.

Therefore, I was not supposed to ask him what this feud was about, nor why he seemed annoyed that I’d asked of it at all.

Left with no other options, unless I wished to return to Crustle and start anew with my quest to find the home I’d never had, I remained silent.

A familiar male with white-blond hair that stood in puffs reminiscent of the snow beneath the carriage’s crunching wheels rushed to greet us. It was the same male who’d laughed in Florian’s study after his king had kissed and dismissed me.

He wore a uniform that confirmed he was indeed a warrior, but the crest on his coat was different from the others I’d glimpsed. It was red, which I assumed signified his high rank.

A rank that allowed him to glare at the king impatiently as soon as he opened the door. As if he might pluck Florian from his seat to deliver him evidently urgent news.

The male looked at me with narrowed pale-blue eyes, his light-brown skin creasing as his lips curled a fraction.

I hadn’t the time to decide whether it was a sneer or a smirk. Florian left the carriage and landed upon the pebbled drive in one shockingly graceful leap.

I climbed out with the help of the driver, who held my hand with a stiffness that conveyed he’d rather not touch me. Perhaps because I was betrothed to the king. I didn’t care to analyze it when Florian barked at the blond male, “Fume.”