Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (86)

Wet soil and pine and horse rode along the kiss of the autumn-touched breeze, drawing my eyes to the carriage horse.

He stood behind Fellan, restless and free.

I met the monstrous creature’s eyes, and he settled with a huff.

As I stared, an unexpected peace, cool and soft and silken, unfurled from my chest. It erased the aches in my body and heart. If I was leaving this world when I’d only just begun to experience it, then I would do so without giving these guards the satisfaction of looking at them.

“Indeed, there is a chance we might be punished for taking this win from our king,” Fellan was muttering now, the tip of the knife meeting the corner of my mouth. “But we’ll be celebrated for taking another slice of Molkan Baneberry’s soul.” The blade rose, the steel catching sunlight a second before he placed it at my throat.

The horse I was still staring at reared.

My knees buckled as pain scalded from the slice of the blade. Then it slid across my skin as Fellan shouted and turned to the advancing horse.

I tripped backward into Zayla as darkness invaded the edges of my vision, and my fingers tingled in a way they’d only done a handful of times before.

In a way that told me I was about to materialize elsewhere.

But this time, the magic that had only ever arrived when I was desperate might be too late, even as Fellan fell beneath the bucking legs of the black stallion.

Zayla screamed and left me to rescue him, but she too was knocked to the ground.

The driver looked at me and cursed, unmoving. His wide copper eyes jumped from me to Fellan, who was howling and growling beneath the hooves of the horse while Zayla scrambled back with her arm clutched to her chest.

I smiled as the soil ruptured and rose beneath my feet, and I slipped through the welcoming void of time.

The apartment was just how I’d left it.

I didn’t stay. I stumbled into the hall and down the stairs, still winded and far too unbalanced.

I didn’t dare seek help from Gane either. Florian would know where to find me, and it would not be long until he heard of my failed venture to the city.

A venture he likely wouldn’t have allowed.

The pain in my chest flared, worse than the various bruising, cuts, and gashes. Worse than the deep slash at my throat. Clutching it as tears blurred my vision, I gritted my teeth against the desire to slide down the wall of the landing and scream at the flickering firelight of the stairwell.

Later. I could fall apart later.

Right now, I needed to make sure there would be a later. I needed a place to hide until I assessed my injuries and made a new plan.

I gave one last longing look at my very own secret entrance to the library, and then I continued downstairs.

The acrid scents of refuse and smoke overwhelmed as soon as I pushed open the rear door to the apartment building and stepped into the narrow alleyway beyond. Crustle had always been as gloomy and dank as people said, but now that I’d left and returned, I fought the urge to vomit.

It was likely shock or the repercussion of materializing. So I leaned back against the cold stone of the building, partly hidden beside a large rusted wagon.

A wagon filled with rotting food.

I gagged, misery squeezing my bones as I walked on.

Not a minute later, I stopped. A familiar male stood beneath the stairs to the Lair of Lust.

The male I’d met in the dressing room at the beginning of this journey I never should have taken paused. His tobacco stem fell from his fingers as he surveyed me slowly. “Mother of skies, pretty thing, what the fuck happened to you?”

“I need a place to stay,” I said, breathless as each step made my ribs scream. “Just...” Startled by a clatter in the distance, I glanced around. Mercifully, it seemed to have come from the street. No one else lurked in the alley. “Just for the day.”

His eyes widened upon the hand at my throat. “You need more than that,” he said, his face creasing with an incredulous huff. “You’re bleeding.” He looked me over again, gold-dusted lashes flicking. “Everywhere.” He sighed when I said nothing. “Let me get Morin. She’ll skin me if I bring you in looking like that without checking first.”

I attempted to nod, then flinched.

His head shook as he climbed the stairs and squinted down at me. “This place is no good for sweet creatures like you.”

He was gone before he could glimpse what those words did to me.

What have I done to you, sweet creature?

A hitched breath spiked my pulse.

Disorientated anew, I leaned against the building beneath the stairs and closed my eyes over the wet that filled them. I silently recited my letters to the timing of each trembling breath, then I lifted my shaky hand from my neck.

Blood dribbled from the sliced flesh but didn’t gush. Not too deep, then.

There was no relief. There was only pain. Tears left my eyes as I stared at the crimson covering my palm.

The air grew warm.

I tensed and clasped my neck again, sensing I was no longer alone.

My heartbeat drummed in my ears.

Boots, large and bulky like some of Florian’s, entered my blurry line of sight.

I couldn’t recall seeing a chestnut pair in his collection. Nor had I seen him wear a brown cloak. Slowly, my eyes rose over a thick pair of olive-green britches and a fitted brown tunic to meet the male’s gaze.

Gold eyes.