Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (97)

One part puzzled me. “I thought the other kingdoms were not involved.”

“Oleander might claim they want nothing to do with this feud, but all that means is they want nothing to do with me. And Aconite,” he explained, referring to the realm in the far northwest of Folkyn, “even if King Ruben would trade with me, I am not so desperate that I would sell my soul to a Nowhere-bound hellion such as he.”

Evidently, only so much could be gleaned from books and murmurings. I was almost tempted to ask more about King Ruben, but Molkan wasn’t done.

“Florian humiliates me to no end, wearing me so thin that when he finally decides to take this very soil from beneath my feet, I will have no choice but to surrender.” He paused, and I did too, shocked as he turned to level me with a dark look. “I might have robbed him of what little heart he once had, but this has gone on long enough.” A careful lowering of his eyes over my features was followed by a slight smile shaping his full mouth. “With you now in my possession, I have hope we can turn this tide.”

“How?” I asked, a little breathless from all he’d told me.

I couldn’t yet decide how to feel about it, nor understand why I couldn’t. It should have been obvious, especially after all I’d endured, that Florian was a monster who needed to be stopped.

But just as Gane had warned countless times, nothing was ever as it seemed within these lands.

Molkan only winked, then resumed walking. I followed, my steps lighter from just that one wink, as he said, “The heat. Have you already succumbed to it?”

The way he’d ignored my question had left me wondering about his plans, so I was about to blurt the truth until something stopped me. “No,” I said, my cheeks warming. I let them, as it was to be expected. “Not yet.”

Molkan slid his gaze to me, but he just said, “Do make sure you let me know when you start to feel the effects.” Then his pace quickened toward the stairs.

I stayed behind, afraid to ask what he would have done if the heat hadn’t already swept through me like a raging storm. Would he have had one of his servants tend to me? Or perhaps his golden-eyed adviser?

Relief gnawed like a parasite.

Florian had intended to kill me, yet I still couldn’t envision it—giving myself to anyone as wildly and completely as I had him.





I was shown to a dining room for dinner that night, the king’s tragic tale still stopping my every attempt at new thought.

A round table big enough for twelve stood in the center. Candles in varying sizes and citrus scents sat upon the rattan cupboards and slim shelves lining the room. The arched fireplace was empty and dark behind the grand chair likely reserved for the king.

There were two place settings, but the king would not be dining with me.

Avrin entered long after the meals had been delivered.

I’d grown tired of waiting. I’d thought I would be dining with Molkan, who was my father, and so I’d assumed he wouldn’t mind. If I’d known he would not be joining me, I would have served myself the lemon-crusted fish and fruit salad far sooner.

I lowered my cutlery, shock pausing my chewing as the golden-eyed male took a seat before the other place setting. He immediately helped himself to the food while saying dryly, “Thank you for waiting, Princess.”

I scowled and finished chewing, then sipped some water. “I’ve grown accustomed to dining alone.”

“There are two place settings.”

“I do have eyes,” I stupidly said.

He snorted. “Doesn’t seem like they work very well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means...” Done with dumping fruit onto his plate and licking cream from his fingers, Avrin smirked at me. “That you’re maddeningly blind.”

I knew he was referring to Florian. I refrained from taking the bait. Instead, I merely said with a false calm that made me proud, “What’s done is done.”

“If you say so,” he murmured, and reached for the wine. After taking a slurping sip and setting his goblet down, he noted I hadn’t poured any. “So ashamed of your bad decisions you would keep from one of life’s finest delights?”

I half rolled my eyes. “If you consider wine to be a source of happiness, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Oh but I have many sources,” Avrin emphasized with a flash of his teeth, “of happiness.”

I carved up more fish. “Am I supposed to blush?”

“Rumor has it you were eternally red for a certain frosty king.”

My attempt at remaining unbothered was officially ruined. I choked, coughing as I snatched my water.

Pleased, Avrin went on, his tone riddled with knowing. “Of course, rumors are often disappointingly inaccurate, but in this case...”

I’d had quite enough of arrogant males.

The goblet of water hit the table with a thud. I made to stand to take my meal to my room until his chuckle and waving arm halted me.

“I’ll stop,” he said, and though I didn’t believe him, I sat back down. Mirth and unmistakable judgment sparked in his gaze, in the smile that didn’t quite reach those bright eyes. “It seems I’ve touched a very tender spot.”

I cursed, but before I could stand, his hand stole mine.