Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (88)

Such as finding a goddess-given mate of the soul in a king who intended to murder rather than claim me.

I now understood why Florian hadn’t said a word when I’d asked if he was my mate. He had intended to kill me, and that would prove difficult if he acknowledged what I was—his.

Florian had no heart. It had been torn from his chest long ago, rendering him merciless and calculated enough to make sure it would never dare to beat again.

For he would let nothing stand in the way of everything he’d spent years working to achieve.

I fought back a new wave of incoming tears, my lungs tight as I stared down at the ivory cotton linen of the bed. Beyond being an enjoyable pet in his games of revenge, I didn’t matter to Florian. Not nearly enough to change anything. To change him.

I pushed thoughts of him and what he might be doing in my absence aside as the silence in the room swelled once again. “I thought the hunt was composed of those who choose not to belong to any faerie court?”

Molkan lifted his hand from his cheek, saying casually, “They are exactly that.” Noting why I was confused, he smiled slightly, and the sight gave me a modicum of comfort. “Avrin’s brother is a member, and so he is permitted to travel with them from time to time when scouting for things we need.” His expression hardened. “Things that have been stolen from us.”

He hadn’t meant me, yet I was too hesitant to ask what he did mean.

“Artifacts, books, coin, seedlings,” Molkan explained. “Even magic-infused items used to help ward our palace walls.”

“How do you ward a place with items?”

Molkan flashed his teeth in a quick grin. “They contain my blood, you see, but once they’re removed from my land, they become nothing more than collectibles for the curious.”

I frowned. “Florian takes such things from you?”

His brow arched. “You say his name with significant ease.”

My cheeks threatened to flush and give away all of the mistakes I’d made within enclosed rooms and carriages—skies, even atop a horse.

But I maintained eye contact, relieved when Molkan said, “He and his beastly blood-drinking ilk take all that and more, yes.”

Now would be a good time to ask why, but I already knew.

He seemed to assume as much, nodding once with a rough exhale. “You have less questions than I thought you would.”

“I was almost killed,” I said, ignoring the urge to touch my throat. “And my lifelong desire for answers is the reason for that, so...” I smiled as best I could, and nervously combed my fingers through my blood-streaked hair. “I think I just need a moment to remember them all.” My fingers snagged on a small twig. I pulled it free, inspecting another reminder of what had happened on those mountain roads in my lap.

“So he finally decided to do it,” Molkan said with a huff. “I was beginning to think it might not happen.”

“You knew he intended to kill me?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from rising in shock.

“Oh, with certainty.” He laughed at my expression. “I’m not the one to harbor anger toward. You were placed in the middle lands for this exact reason, young one.”

I looked down at the twig. “To keep me from Florian.”

Silence arrived, and I almost thought he’d leave until he linked his hands over his stomach and seemed to come to a decision. “When Lilitha died, he vowed to take everything I loved,” Molkan said, voice low and more rough. “We do not love in the way humans do, but when we care for something, it is almost the same thing.”

“And if you do love something?” I asked.

Molkan smirked. “Then the fiery pits of Nowhere will extinguish before anyone gets away with taking it from us.”

I swallowed. “And Florian loved his sister.”

“As though he were her father,” he said, almost wistful, almost regretful, and as if recalling the male Florian once was. “Mother Mythayla knows Hammond Hellebore ceased wishing to breathe after Lilitha’s birth resulted in the death of his beloved queen and mate.”

He knew them—had known them well. I couldn’t resist asking, “Why did you kill her?”

I thought his amused hum would be all the answer I’d receive. But he sighed and said, “We were all close, as they say in the mortal realm”—he waved his hand—“once upon a time.” Then, for what might have been the first time since I woke, Molkan averted his eyes from me.

He looked down at the patch of woven carpet covering the stone floor at his bare feet. “I think we’ll let you get acquainted with this home I’ve kept you from.” He rose from the chair, his height staggering. “Before I give you information that might just make you wish to leave it.”

A humorless laugh escaped me. “After everything...” I shook my head. “Nothing much can surprise me now.”

The door creaked open, revealing more light stone.

Molkan stood in the doorway for a prolonged moment, then said, “I do advise against tempting our dear goddess to prove you wrong. I’ll have one of the servants along to show you where to bathe shortly.”

The door closed with an echoing click.

I stared at it while his warning chilled the sun-warmed room, unsure what to do now that I’d received everything I thought I’d never get.