His mouth curved, those endless dark blues unrelenting upon my every feature. So much so, I felt cold when they fell away and he served me a slice of the herbed fish. “Lemon?”
“Please,” I said, slightly croaked.
I was tempted to remove my coat when he squeezed the fruit. Liquid poured from his iron grip, matching the flood of heat pooling low in my stomach.
I didn’t need to meet his eyes to know he’d handed me a knowing look. The murdered slice of lemon was dropped cruelly to the side of the entrée dish.
“You are too pure of heart,” Florian commented. “Considering.”
I blinked. “Considering?”
“The woman abused you.” Then, as if mystified, he asked, “How?”
Though he waited, I could find no answer for him. I picked up my cutlery and kept my eyes fastened to my plate as we ate in a silence that was anything but comfortable.
Mercifully, the tension was tamed by the arrival of a bushy-haired male.
He introduced himself to me with a wide smile and a ruddiness to his cheeks that met his brown eyes and made me instantly wish to trust him. “Don,” he declared with a dramatic flourish of his hand as he bowed to both of us. “Welcome to a piece of my soul, beautiful lady.”
The king looked at Don with his elbow on the table. His talented fingers skimmed his jaw, a smirk at his lips while the jovial male regaled me with tales of his beloved restaurant.
“… And my father was also a great fisher, but me?” He laughed, hearty and thick. “Oh no. The goddess cursed me with terrible seasickness.” His eyes twinkled when I laughed. “Or did she bless me? For I have always been a master cook, my dear, never you doubt it.”
“Father.” Jessilba appeared behind him, wide-eyed and seeming almost concerned. She clasped his elbow, tugging. “Come along before you paint yourself a liar. The squid is done.”
Don sputtered a myriad of colorful curses. Bowing with two jerks of his rotund form, he hurried back to his kitchen through a door beyond the bar.
I watched him go, feeling lighter from his presence.
That lightness bubbled when I found the king studying me, that smirk now matching the contemplative look in his eyes. “You have a musical laugh.”
Unsure if that was a good thing, I only stared while my cheeks grew warm.
“Like birdsong beneath the rain,” he murmured, almost as if to himself while lifting his glass of wine to his lips.
His throat dipped as he swallowed, and I imagined what it might feel like to run my tongue over his Adam’s apple.
I hadn’t realized I was still staring at his throat until a plate of squid was set before me. A glowing salad, drizzled with a sauce that smelled like nutmeg and ginger, was piled alongside it.
Florian sniffed and prodded at each dish until he was satisfied it was safe, uncaring if Don or his daughter watched from the kitchen.
While we ate, I thought of Snow and failed to hide the bite of panic in my voice when I asked, “Did someone feed the cub?”
Ever the refined king, Florian finished chewing while giving me an amused look.
He swallowed and dropped his gaze to his food. “I told you it would be taken care of.” He cut into the squid, his eyes darker when they lifted to mine. “You do not trust me to keep my word?”
His question should have been answered with a confident and instant yes.
Instead, I said around a mouthful of food, “I trust you do not like that I disobeyed you and brought her to your stables.”
I felt his stare like the burn of the sun while I focused on my meal. After a moment, he said, “You surprise me.”
“I don’t mean to offend.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Oh. I swallowed and gulped some wine, pondering what he did mean.
As we came close to finishing our meals, I then pondered how to broach the subject of the news he had yet to tell me.
As though feeling my itch to ask, the king’s eyes rose from my plate to meet mine.
I was thankful my voice sounded more confident than I felt. “You said you have news regarding my family.”
Again, Florian took his time chewing. He then set his cutlery down and dabbed at his mouth with a silver napkin. “They are not in my kingdom,” is all he said.
My stomach sank with my heart.
I’d known there was a good chance anyone who shared my bloodline would not reside here in Hellebore. For if they did, then surely, the king would have sought them out upon first learning what I desired most from Faerie.
“Finish your meal, butterfly.”
I’d eaten most of it, and I was now far more interested in the wine than anything else. “I’ve had enough to eat, Majesty,” I murmured, and brought the glass to my mouth to drain it.
He watched me place it on the table, that familiar tic to his jaw. “Florian.”
I should have smiled and said his name, as per what was growing usual, but I couldn’t find it within me to care at that moment.
If my family wasn’t here, then I would need to find a way to discover where they were. That, or I would need to travel to the other kingdoms of Folkyn—Oleander, Baneberry, and Aconite. Doing so would be no easy task, being that this king I’d agreed to marry said I was confined to his kingdom because he was in conflict with one of them.
We were settling into the carriage when I dared to finally ask him, “Which realm are you feuding with?”
Florian’s gaze was bright with incredulity as it swept to me.
But I held it and said, “If I am to search for answers, then it would be helpful to know which kingdom I should avoid looking at first.”
His shoulders sat tight and high, the name almost gritted. “Baneberry.”
We lurched forward, and I stared at the clean and sharp lines of his profile as he stared at the closed driver window. He knew I watched him, yet he looked straight ahead and said nothing more.
He did not reach for me once during the short journey through the streets and up the mountain to the manor.
Something about his silence felt venomous, as though it were both a punishment and for my own good. I felt neither grateful nor remorseful. If anything, I grew more irritated and confused the longer this game of affection and rejection continued.
There was plenty Florian wasn’t telling me. I knew that. I’d known it since I’d first pressed my mouth to his in that pleasure house. I just hadn’t expected it to bother me this much—to eventually crawl under my skin and prod like a parasite that might kill.
I was merely insurance for his kingdom. I was to be his dutiful wife. I would likely be expected to provide him with an heir or two at some point, too.
But I was not permitted to truly know him.
Therefore, I was not supposed to ask him what this feud was about, nor why he seemed annoyed that I’d asked of it at all.
Left with no other options, unless I wished to return to Crustle and start anew with my quest to find the home I’d never had, I remained silent.
A familiar male with white-blond hair that stood in puffs reminiscent of the snow beneath the carriage’s crunching wheels rushed to greet us. It was the same male who’d laughed in Florian’s study after his king had kissed and dismissed me.
He wore a uniform that confirmed he was indeed a warrior, but the crest on his coat was different from the others I’d glimpsed. It was red, which I assumed signified his high rank.