Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (58)
I hushed the tiny beast when she snarled at Zayla’s continued assessment, and whispered, “You’ll give away our attempt at eavesdropping.”
Zayla snorted and stayed in the hall as I trekked downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Snow trailing.
Kreed did not comment on the wolf, but the twins were delighted. “It’s true, then.” Arryn laughed and crouched before the cub to offer his hand.
Her lips peeled back, but he waited. Slowly, she crept forward to sniff his hand, then allowed the young male to pet her.
I set her awaiting meaty breakfast on the floor. “I call her Snow.”
“Creative,” Thistle teased, arms folded and a smirk curling his lips, while I took my usual perch.
The stool now sat at the end of the island bench, my berried oats and a glass of water waiting. My eyes stung at the sight—at the knowledge I was welcome somewhere.
I swallowed the unexpected emotion and tried to ignore the other one I couldn’t seem to kick aside. After a few mouthfuls, I failed miserably.
My spoon fell with an unintentional clatter into the bowl as I blurted, “Who is that female?”
“You’ll need to be more specific.” Kreed finished drying a saucepan and hung it upon one of the hooks dotting the ceiling above me.
I half rolled my eyes. “You know who I mean.”
He grinned and tossed his worn towel over his shoulder. “You mean the female visiting with our king?”
I glared, lifting the glass of water to my lips and slurping.
The twins chuckled.
Kreed dismissed them, and they both cursed with relief and left via the door that would take them outside. That I’d seen them leave the same way before told me their private quarters were on the grounds somewhere and not within the manor itself.
“You seem...” The cook didn’t even try to hide his amusement as he narrowed his eyes on my face and then my barely touched breakfast. “Bothered.”
“I’m not.”
He huffed and carried a pot to the sink, draining the water from it.
“I’m not,” I said again, and ate another mouthful for good measure. “I wish whoever she is the best of luck in dealing with his insufferable attitude and overbearing presence.”
“Overbearing?” Kreed questioned, sounding on the cusp of laughter.
I decided to shut my mouth, knowing I’d already said and implied far too much.
The king was under my skin. He’d made sure of that before I discovered his true intentions. Now, I could only hope it wouldn’t hurt too much to peel it back and tear him out.
I didn’t want to be attracted to him. I certainly didn’t want to marry him.
And I didn’t want the mere idea of him enjoying another’s company to bother me as much as it did.
Gaining Florian’s trust in the hope of finding enough freedom to escape was impossible when he didn’t trust anyone. I was stuck, and I had to wonder if I loathed him more for that than for tricking me in the first place.
For trapping me in a larger prison.
I’d been so desperate for freedom that I’d stupidly signed over my life to Florian, believing he was fate sent to give me just that and more. All I could do now was rot within this cage of lust and loathing until an opportunity to get to Baneberry presented itself.
Then I would have the protection of the kingdom in which I’d been born.
Until Florian came for us with his armies, of course.
And I knew that such a betrayal would never be forgiven—regardless of him being wholly aware of my longing for answers and a place to truly belong.
Aggravated beyond measure, I shoved my breakfast away and ignored the urge to thump my head against the smooth stone countertop until my hopeless and desolate musings were knocked from my skull.
Kreed shot me a curious look over his shoulder, but I could handle no more talk of the king. “How long have you and Olin been dancing around one another?”
The cook’s eyes flared slightly. The only tell he gave that perhaps I’d struck a nerve.
Giving his attention back to the soapy water, he sighed as if suddenly exhausted. “We haven’t been involved for some years.”
I didn’t want to pry. However, I did want to distract myself and maybe learn why this steward was such a damned grouch. I pulled my breakfast close when my stomach growled for more sustenance. “Is that why he’s always so miserable?”
Kreed chuckled. It quickly ended with a rough exhale. “He wasn’t aware I had sons nor that I’d spent a few decades with a female before I met him. Can’t say I blame him for how he feels.” He shook suds from a large wooden spoon. “It’s quite the secret.”
“And why did you keep it?” I gently pressed.
Kreed didn’t respond.
I resumed eating, believing he wouldn’t.
Then, quietly, as though he did not wish for anyone to overhear, he explained, “I didn’t know I had sons, either. By the time I did, and by the time I realized what we were doing was perhaps serious”—he shrugged—“well...”
It had been too late.
The door screeched open atop the stairwell, steps descending.
Her scent preceded her—sunlight and citrus with a faint hint of salt.
Her hair was the color of wet sand, falling straight and long over an ample chest and a torso with enviable curves. Dark-green eyes, reminiscent of seaweed, sparked with her slow-spreading smile as she stopped before me. “You must be the spawn of the enemy.”