Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (93)
“But she knew you were married,” I said, then remembered she had been all of seventeen years, and evidently lost to the overwhelming intensity that came with finding such an attraction. That came with finding a mate.
“We both forgot that fact entirely too quickly,” he admitted soberly. “Florian was the one to find us. To this day, I still don’t know how. I assume someone informed him, for last I’d known, he’d been in the springs with a horde of females and higher than the moon on toadstool dust.”
Even as my very bones protested at the thought of him with others, I almost snorted.
Almost.
It was hard to imagine the rigid and refined Florian in such a way.
Which must have shown on my face, for Molkan said, “I do hear he does not partake in such revelry any longer. In fact, I’ve heard he’s become quite the cold bore. Like his father but at least with ambition.” A darkly humorous hum. “Suppose that’s my doing, of course.” He exhaled heavily. “So Lilitha was immediately materialized back to Hellebore, and Florian was sitting in my chambers the following morning, watching my wife and me sleep.”
My eyes widened, although the image was much better matched with the arrogant king I knew.
“He hadn’t needed to say it,” Molkan said. “The way he’d stared at Corina was warning enough.”
“He was going to kill her?”
Molkan chuckled. “Skies, no. He was not so cold-blooded back then, but he was certainly cruel when he wanted to be, and his entire frame pulsed with his desire to be as menacing as I’d made him feel by daring to touch his young sister.”
“He would tell your wife.” I swallowed, finding it odd to say, “My mother.”
Molkan nodded. “And despite quietly vowing to never touch Lilitha again, he still did. He smirked at my pleading and waited for Corina to stir, then he rose from the chair to crouch by her ear and whisper my transgressions, his eyes on me while I tried to keep from leaping over our bed to knock the audacity from his pretty face. He vanished before I could, and your mother...”
A warning. Florian had issued a warning to this father of mine to keep far away from the sister he’d raised when his father, Hammond, could not.
Quiet reigned for some minutes as we passed the apple tree and more silent yet bowing workers, and I absorbed all he’d divulged.
When we reached the shade of the terrace, I had to ask, “Did she forgive you?”
Molkan gazed up the stairs, appearing lost in thought. “Never, but as time passed, she did come to understand. I’d found a mate, and rejecting a force that has been ordained by the mother of fate is near impossible. I still tried. For some years after that life-altering night, I tried and tried.” He sighed. “And tried.”
He needn’t have bothered saying more. He’d tried, and he’d clearly failed. Molkan hadn’t stayed away from Lilitha, and now, here we all were.
He said nothing more as he climbed the stairs, with the exception of parting words. “We will resume tomorrow.”
I’d been dismissed, but after all he’d said, I didn’t mind.
I stared at the apple in my hand, then looked back to the sunlit gardens that had seen so much history.
For the remainder of the day, I walked the halls and viewed the scenery beyond the windows and palace walls, lost to the beauty of this land I longed to explore more of and the chaos of my thoughts.
I bathed alone and quickly, not wanting to find myself in another awkward position, then ate a light dinner of pork and a large leafy green salad delivered by a different male servant. There were few items in my room to amuse myself with—only a handful of dusty books and the view from the window.
So I sat upon the bed with a novel containing historic uses of poisonous flowers, and mostly gazed through the window to the city aglow with soft touches of night.
The next morning, I was awake and ready when Molkan arrived, better rested than the day prior but still haunted by blue eyes and careful and cruel lies.
“How are you finding the food?” the king asked once we’d reached the bottom of the sandstone steps.
This time, we didn’t veer right toward the gardens we’d traversed yesterday. Molkan strolled toward the western side of the palace. He waited when I paused at the sight before me. “I suggest leaving your shoes behind.”
I smiled and kicked off my slippers.
A pond, almost a dam, rich with algae and water lilies, stretched along the base of the western wall. Beside it was another terrace that met with the emerald grass, vines crawling up the pillars of the stone shelter.
Remembering he’d asked me a question, I stammered out, “The food is delicious, thank you.”
Molkan hummed, fingers curling at his back once more, and licked his teeth as if pondering his next words before he set them free. “We would have more in the way of meats, but our livestock has diminished, and now our poultry, too.”
Florian.
Though I didn’t need to ask who was responsible, I did say, “What has he been doing exactly?”
The wagons—of which I knew were likely just some of many that had been taken elsewhere—and the conversation I’d had with Kreed swam within my mind. My toes scrunched over the soft grass, but my blood chilled when Molkan spoke again.
“He has his warriors steal our livestock. They’re resold for a hefty sum in the middle lands, where meats are not as rich and bountiful. And if they cannot be stolen from us and used for his own gain, then they’re destroyed or poisoned.”