When she drew her knees to her chest and fidgeted with the hem of her skirts, his gaze blazed like black fire.
“Surely you have another garment to wear,” he drawled. His voice sounded uninterested, but his eyes betrayed him. “Do you not care for any of the dresses I had made for you? There are trousers too, if you prefer.”
“Am I embarrassing you,Your Majesty?” She nearly stood and gave him a mock curtsy but settled for a saccharine smile. She refused to be dressed up in a pretty outfit to fit into his pretty life.
With an undertone of aggression, he bit into his apple, then chased the trickle of juice down the side of his mouth with his tongue. “You’re certainly less than cooperative.”
Everything he did maintained control, that much was obvious, and any chance she could steal that control, she would, if only to get a rise from him. And the irritated press of his lips was a small victory.
“Did I not make that clear the day I pulled my blade on you in Malheim? Oh, and threatened to set you on fire?”
He made a throaty noise that resembled a chuckle. “I suppose.”
His shoulders relaxed as he leaned against the tree trunk beside her and savoured his apple like he truly enjoyed her company. He was a convincing actor, she’d give him that.
“How are you finding your time here?” he asked.
His feigned politeness knocked her from her thoughts and she now realized how long she’d stared at his mouth. She tore her gaze from him and studied the ground. “Fine,” she lied.
In the last weeks she’d spent many constructive hours in the training center whipping daggers at targets, pretending they were Vesper’s face, since she couldn’t practice her magic. She hadn’t summoned herkhaosflame in weeks and her soul ached for it.
The rest of her time she’d spent at Fionn’s bedside reading to him while she waited for him to wake. He still hadn’t stirred, still lost in that drug induced coma. The days she spent trapped in the castle, and only her nightly adventures provided reminders of freedom—the loose windowpane, the trellis beneath, and the dagger she hid in her wardrobe.
With a loud crunch, he took another bite, his perfect teeth imprinted into the crisp green skin. “I’m afraid I’ve been rather pre-occupied. The last few weeks have presented some …unexpectedchallenges.”
He held out the apple. Her eyes flicked between his hand and his face in disbelief. He was offering her a bite? What a heinously casual thing to do with a stranger. The thought of putting her mouth where his had been made her squirm, so she shook her head and pulled her knees harder into her chest.
Like the refusal offended him, he sighed, then took methodical bites, no doubt planning the conversation’s route and carefully chosen destination. She waited on bated breath for his next prompt, or irritation. The two often coincided.
After he finished the apple, he tossed the core aside. “I should have given you a tour and ensured you were properly situated.” He plucked a white rose from a nearby bush. A thorn pricked his little finger and drew blood though he paid it no mind, even as it trailed his hand and dripped onto a rose below. As it soaked intothe flower’s petals, she wondered if that’s what he intended to do with the entirety of this land: stain it with blood.
The King twirled the bloom between two fingers in an offering. “Will you accept my sincerest apology?”
Emmery studied the rose but couldn’t decipher his tone or intentions. Somehow the soft petals were pristine and unaffected by the cold. And it waswinter. “How do you grow flowers this time of year?”
“My help with the blessing of earth tend to the castle grounds.”
She swallowed her irritation. Starving children flooded his city streets, and he was concerned with his garden. Howvile.
With each twirl of the flower, her stomach wound tighter. To accept this rose felt like a white flag, compliance with the King’s actions. And every shred of her despised him and what he’d done to this kingdom and people.
But more than anything, she stared at the flower in quiet shame.
Destonne’s brows knit as he surveyed her expression. “Why are you staring like I’m offering you a snake? It’s only a flower, angel.”
It wasn’t only a flower. The words stuck in her throat but she choked out the admission. “No one has ever given me flowers.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Emmery clenched her jaw, as if she could crush that hollowness inside her. Fold it up into tiny sections like parchment. Anything to shrink it. But a thin voice from the shadows whispered she was, and always would be, alone. That the darkness and solitude within her was earned.
Her cheeks heated as his gaze lingered on her face again, studying her like a piece of literature written in a foreign language. A code he couldn’t crack. What was it about this man that made her insides vibrate? She couldn’t name it, onlyrecognize that he stirred something wild and anxious within her. Made her want to crawl out of her skin.
“I’m honoured to be your first,” he said, his voice a velvet caress.
He winked and the corner of his mouth twitched. This was a joke to him. She could feel it in her bones. He was playing with her.
“Don't mock me,” she snarled.