Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (84)

Days. I’d been in Folkyn for mere weeks. Even more shocking was that I’d known Florian for less than a month.

In such a short time, not only had he changed my entire life—he’d also begun to change my beliefs and the beat of my heart. I couldn’t imagine the damage he’d do if I stayed much longer, all the while knowing the chances of leaving Hellebore today were slim.

I would likely return to these rooms and to the male who’d given them to me. And I would again promise myself that I would find a way out when there was none to be found.

When perhaps I didn’t truly want one.

I stopped at the door with the coat in hand. It would be too much with my gown, but after one last glimpse at the bed I hadn’t slept in for four unforgettable nights, I donned it anyway and closed the door.

My growing affections for this kingdom’s cold ruler were not enough to quiet the unrest inside me. An unrest he’d caused with his bloodthirsty plans, but that I could only fix myself. He would never change his mind, and he certainly wouldn’t allow me to meet my father when he was the very reason I was here.

Florian could not love me, and trying to make him would not save me.

I would need to save myself. To seek all I needed before I fell into another trap I might have avoided if I’d only opened my eyes wide enough to see that something wasn’t right.

And the befuddling conversation I’d overheard last night had been a stark reminder that none of this was right—no matter how differently the beating organ in my chest felt.

Downstairs, Zayla waited by the doors in the foyer. She sketched a playful bow. “Your wish has been granted, Princess.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it, as the portrait of Lilitha caught my eye.

Her mischievous eyes twinkled, and I could’ve sworn the young princess trapped within a painting attempted to convey something.

Shaking my head, I gathered my skirts to descend the damp steps to the drive.

I stopped at the sight of the guard leaning against the dark-blue carriage. He flicked ash from his tobacco stem and straightened with a grin. Smoke billowed from his mouth and clouded his face.

The ash floated across the royal insignia of the hellebore flower upon the carriage door, falling to the melting sludge upon the ground.

The driver, dressed in the regalia of a warrior, leaned down from his seat to smack the carriage. “Cease ogling and open the damned door, Fellan.”

Zayla closed the doors to the manor.

Fellan shot the male a dark scowl and stomped on the stem with unnecessary vigor. “No one in their right mind would ogle Molkan’s spawn.” He glowered and spat at the ground.

I tensed and glanced at Zayla when she reached my side. “Apologies, Princess.” A sharp warning look was given to Fellan. “He was one of few with a clear morning schedule.”

“Wonder why,” I muttered beneath my breath, and sighed as I walked toward the carriage.

Fellan opened the door, whispering far too close to my hair, “Heard that, Princess.”

I ignored him and climbed inside, nearly tripping on my gown as Snow howled behind the doors to the manor.

Zayla sat beside me while Fellan sat opposite us with his legs spread. His jaw rotated as the carriage lurched forward, his gaze unwilling to leave me alone.

I did my best to act as though he wasn’t there at all, all the while knowing it would be wise to never be caught alone with such a hostile creature. Perhaps I should have told Florian he’d bruised my ribs after all.

They were now healed, and the chance was gone.

Though smaller than the royal carriage I’d journeyed in before, it was no less grand. The seats had been upholstered in black leather, and matching drapes veiled the windows. With Fellan’s unrelenting glower pressing like a burn upon my face, I pulled them open to view the woods.

“Close them,” Fellan barked.

I finally looked at him, frowning. “I would rather not, thank you.”

His dark eyes flashed, teeth meeting with a clack behind his thinned lips.

I never thought I’d meet anyone who loathed me more than Rolina had. But this male... Something told me he’d peel my skin from my flesh and use my bones to feast upon my organs if given the chance.

I withheld a shiver.

Zayla spoke before Fellan could, a look given to him that I couldn’t decipher. “We can better ensure your safety if people do not know you’re in here.”

I refrained from saying that not once had Florian told me to keep from looking out the window. Not during our long carriage ride through Hellebore, nor during our shorter trip into the city. Annoyance and a chilled feeling I couldn’t name pricked at my skin.

But I let the drapes fall closed and caught a gesture from Fellan.

A gesture I’d assumed was vulgar, but it had been made with his fingers in his lap—so slight, I couldn’t make out what it meant as I turned it over in my mind.

Then my peripheral snatched the movement of Zayla’s quick nod. A flock of birds screeched overhead, and she shifted on the seat.

Fellan laughed, but it didn’t reach his evil eyes. “Still got that fear of birds, Zay?”

She had no fear of birds, and the almost imperceptible confused purse of her lips before she played along said as much.

The screeching sounded again.

A warning I felt right down to the marrow of my bones.