Zayla followed, but she stood atop the stairs, apparently confident I wouldn’t flee from Florian via the underground rooms.
Approaching the island bench, I eyed the door shielding the set of stairs leading outside. Using it to escape would be impossible, especially with three males nearby and guards patrolling the grounds. I knew my chances of escaping at all were slim, and I was growing more and more certain that I would never see Baneberry.
Knowing didn’t help—that surrender was my only option. I’d been backed into a corner and my hackles were raised.
I might have been a pet, but that didn’t mean I would behave.
Kreed and his sons finally noticed my entrance over their laughter and chatter and the clang of pots and utensils when I cleared my throat.
They all turned at once. One of the twins blinked furiously.
Kreed wiped his hands on a towel and inclined his head in greeting. “Is there something you need?”
“A tunnel to Baneberry,” I quipped before I could help myself.
Kreed’s gaze darkened, his mouth tightening.
I leaned against the island. “You all knew, didn’t you? You knew exactly what he intended for me.”
The gurgling stew on the stove was the only sound.
I bit the inside of my cheek, then said, “I need a bowl of water, please.”
One of the twins asked, “What in the skies for?”
His brother elbowed him.
“To lap at like a good little pet,” I said coldly, shocking them and myself. I licked my teeth and sighed. “For the wolf in my rooms.”
Kreed watched me while one of his sons resumed chopping an onion. The other dug inside the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen for what I needed. The cook’s gaze burned, almost as if he wished to say something.
I refrained from telling him to spit it out already and averted my gaze to the tea tray at the end of the bench, ready and waiting to be taken upstairs.
Finally, Kreed said, “A wolf cannot be domesticated, Princess.”
“Neither can females who’ve been tricked into marriage, yet here I am…” I forced a smile. “Stuck here doing whatever the king wishes.”
Kreed leaned back against the sink. “You’ve only just discovered where you were born.”
I nodded, staring down at the toes of my damp boots.
“Let the shock wear off before you make hasty decisions,” he suggested quietly, then he stalked toward the door that would take him outside.
I looked back at the silver tray, Kreed’s words unable to settle rationally. Especially when I realized the twins had curiously disappeared, too—leaving me alone with a tea tray headed for the king.
The sea salt sat by the stove beside me, the lid open and tempting. I scooped three spoonfuls into the teapot. Then I wiped the teaspoon on my robe and set it back beside the saucer.
The twins returned from a small room I couldn’t see from where I stood, laughing. One grabbed the tea tray and took the stairs to the first floor of the manor.
The other handed me a bowl large enough to wash a babe in. “I’m Thistle.” He pointed at a small cluster of freckles beside his right eye. “These tend to help people remember.” I nodded and took the bowl. He glanced at it with a crooked smirk. “Thought you might need a big one, being that wolves don’t stay small for long.”
Apprehension threatened to make me reconsider allowing Snow indoors. I ignored his growing smile when I thanked him curtly, and returned to the first floor.
Zayla straightened from the wall that faced the stairwell. Her eyes narrowed on the slight smile that touched my lips as we heard the king curse viciously from down the hall.
“Olin, what in the rotten fucking skies is wrong with this tea?”
I chomped down on my lips.
Zayla asked with a rough whisper once we’d climbed the grand staircase, “You did that, didn’t you?”
“Did what?” I asked, and in a dull tone that told her yes, I did—and no, I didn’t care if she tattled on me.
“Tullia,” she warned. “You mustn’t toy with him. He might be fair, but he’s also…” Looking at the doors of the king’s rooms, she said softly, “Without heart.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.” I smiled, and felt it was at least a little bit earnest, as I met her eyes outside of my rooms. “Thank you for trying to warn me, though.”
I closed the door on her worried expression, Snow rising from where she’d made herself comfortable on my bed. She entered the bathing room when I filled the bowl and set it down upon the stone.
I watched her drink, tempted to smack myself upon belatedly realizing I would need to take her outside numerous times a day until she learned not to pee in my rooms.
A small price to pay for the only company I could trust.
Yet again, the king entered without knocking.
The slamming of the door should have warned me to be cautious.
It would seem the shock, and every other nasty feeling that came with it, hadn’t calmed enough for me to even consider minding my words. “It’s rude to enter someone’s private quarters without permission.”
Florian eyed where Snow was sleeping on the crimson carpet before the fire, his jaw firm with displeasure. “So is putting salt in someone’s tea.”
Snow only stirred in her sleep. Apparently not at all concerned about the intruder who had entered our domain.
“Oh?” I hid behind the book in my hand. His boots, these ones sharp-toed and crafted from what appeared to be reptile skin, were only half blocked by it. “Whoever did that is rude indeed.”
He hummed. “You are playing a dangerous game, pet.”
The word pet singed like iron against my ears. But I turned the page, saying airily, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The book was snatched from my fingers.
Florian inspected the title, muttering, “Romancing the Tyrant,” and tossed the rather fitting and steamy novel I’d just begun to enjoy to the floor.
I straightened and gasped in outrage, but it was cut short when the king stood over me and wrapped my loose braid around his fist. He yanked my head back, his words a flame to kindling at my exposed neck. “Do you think enraging me will benefit you?”
“Yes,” I said, my heart beating hard. “For it makes me feel…” I turned my head slightly, the words light and breathless at his bristled jaw. “So much better.”
He snarled. The sound rippled from his throat and coated my skin in gooseflesh. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fuck the insolence out of you.”
I couldn’t have stopped myself even if I’d imagined a million Frensroth’s dead in a dungeon within the woods. I licked the bristle over his jawline, and whispered, “Because I’d enjoy it.”
I was forced to my feet by the hand in my hair, pain smarting at my scalp when I was too stubborn to comply.
It mixed with a pleasure so complete when the king reached under my robe and between my thighs. They parted in permission—enough for his fingers to discover just how thoroughly my body liked to betray my mind.
“You speak true,” he said, thick and perhaps even a touch shocked.
My head was then tilted for his mouth to brand the skin at the curve of my neck with a hard suck from his lips and a kiss of teeth. “You loathe me, yet your body melts from my presence.”