Delen gently threaded thick strands of my hair with dried flowers into a makeshift crown. My eyelids were painted a marble white that flicked at each corner. Kohl soaked my lashes, and a faint silver dust was brushed over my cheeks. My lips were a nude pink that matched the heeled slippers awaiting me by the door.
Delen inspected me, seemingly satisfied with his work. Then he bowed and left my rooms, allowing me privacy to don my lacy moon-washed gown.
It wasn’t easy to wriggle into. I should have expected as much and perhaps asked Delen to wait and assist me. I did the best I could, tightening the silk ribbons at my back. The bodice sat loose, but it would need to do.
Florian was in the foyer, talking with two of his warriors. One of them was Fume, the other a male with silver hair cropped so close to his scalp, he appeared to have none until I descended the last few stairs and neared.
Florian dismissed them. Fume made his way to the doors, but the male I’d yet to see before gave me a once-over that tightened his ice-blue eyes.
“Something wrong with your feet, Shole?”
The male’s full mouth curved as he took his time dragging his gaze from me. He gave his king a look that resulted in a glacial glare from Florian, then stalked to the doors.
Tension and something my senses failed to name emanated from the king. It worsened as he slowly turned to where I stood waiting before the stairs. The ice that kept his features perpetually as he wanted them—unmoving and unreadable—fractured with the parting of his mouth.
I chewed my lips, then winced. I rubbed them and inspected my finger, but there was thankfully no rouge. Whatever Delen’s materials were made from was a magic that didn’t exist in the middle lands of Crustle.
A glimmer of jewels caught my eye.
I soaked in the crown atop Florian’s head, noting it was the first time I’d seen him wear it.
Stunned by the overt reminder of who he was, I lowered my gaze to his boots. The pair he’d chosen for tonight’s festivities were knee-high and smooth black leather. His fitted pants coaxed my eyes to roam over those powerful legs to his torso.
A dress coat, black and edged in a dark blue with matching buttons, rose high at the collar and hung from his broad shoulders in intimidatingly sharp lines. He’d left it unbuttoned. A matching blue shirt beneath was tucked into his pants, molding to his broad chest and tapering temptingly at his waist.
By the time I reached his jaw, the bristle there not as heavy, he was standing before me.
My neck curled back, my smile one that conveyed I knew I’d been caught—and I didn’t much care. “Majesty.”
Florian’s lips closed, curving slightly.
My smile fell beneath the changing hue of his eyes while he stared down at me. He didn’t blink, though his long lashes dipped as his gaze danced with mine.
I might not have been exceptionally knowledgeable when it came to sex, but I was beginning to wonder if perhaps these staring games of his could not be defined as a hunter merely studying his prey.
For as much as I loathed to admit it, the longer he looked at me, the more I struggled to ignore it. The intimacy that aroused more than any words I’d read in books.
Discomfort stumbled with anticipation, and when the two combined, a wildness that begged to be unleashed was born.
“You look divine enough to eat,” Florian murmured.
The heat he’d quelled just hours ago flared and forced my eyes from his. I hadn’t eaten well in days, yet the only thing I hungered for was not what I should want.
“Turn around,” he said gruffly.
I frowned, but he clasped my arm and gently turned me to face the stairs. My hair was gathered over one shoulder. His deft fingers liquefied my blood as he tied the ribbons of the silk bodice properly.
My breathing quickened. I told myself it was due to the tightened bodice.
I should have thanked him, this winter king who had tricked me into placing myself exactly where he wanted me upon his chess board. The urge to do so nearly got the better of me until his fingers met the exposed skin through the flower-shaped lace at my upper back.
The same lace spread down my arms, his touch tracing the material.
As light as a feather, his fingertips stroked, slowing at the skin the flowers exposed. The air became charged, hard to inhale, as his heat closed in at my back. His softened voice stirred my hair. “Your blood betrays you as much as your body, butterfly.” His mouth brushed the arch of my ear. “It rushes to meet my touch.”
Even if I could have trusted myself to speak, he gave me no time.
Cold washed in as Florian stepped back, and I turned as Olin neared with a shimmering cloak that matched my gown.
He bowed to his king, his shrewd lavender eyes appraising me for all of a second. I couldn’t resist smiling brightly now that I knew the source of his eternally dour mood was Kreed.
Florian noticed.
He stepped close once more to drape the cloak over my shoulders. Rounding me, he fastened it at my neck, and I made myself stare at his squarely hewn chin with its slight dimple as my body and blood began to betray me yet again.
A curled finger tipped up my chin. The king’s eyes narrowed. “Do not toy with Olin.”
“I’ve done no such thing,” I declared, all the while I fought back another smile.
Florian studied me. His own mouth twitched, then he stepped away with a rough exhale and held out his hand.
I looked at it, then at his eyes. “We’re materializing?”
“Unless you think yourself too unwell. In which case, you are welcome to stay here and rest.”
That I knew he would prefer that while I was victim to the heat had me stepping forward and folding my hand around his.
He eyed me curiously, as if sensing that I would endeavor to intentionally displease him, and took my other hand. He pulled me against his hard body. Another whisper was murmured to my hairline with tickling lips. “Hold on tight, troublesome creature.”
The energy currents were no kinder to me this time.
Screeching darkness stole my breath and every thought from my mind.
We were spat out with a force that would’ve sent me to my knees with nausea if it weren’t for Florian’s arm banding tight around my waist.
He held me to him as the world reshaped itself.
The call of owls and revelry nearby trickled in as the ringing in my head faded. My tight breaths soon slowed. My eyes opened to find the top button of Florian’s shirt pressed against the tip of my nose.
I broke out of his hold and rubbed it. “Where are we?”
“Wattle Woods,” he said, then remembered I had no idea what that meant. “We’re at the base of Frostfall Mountains.” He gestured to the trees climbing high over the dark hills behind us. “The manor and city are on the other side. Half a day’s journey via horseback.”
That would mean… “We’re near the sea?”
Florian huffed. “A few hours on foot.” A look at my shoes. “I must advise against fleeing for a ship in such impractical footwear, butterfly.”
I snorted, inwardly admonishing myself for showing that he was humorous. Frosty kings with armies swarming and robbing another kingdom should not be considered anything but grotesquely immoral.
And immoral Florian most certainly was, but grotesque…
Unfortunately not.
Perhaps I would find it easier to cling to my hatred for his cruelty and duplicitous actions if he was.