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Chapter thirty-three

A strid would be grateful and obedient. The corners of Dimitri’s eyes crinkled at the thought.

Whether she gave him an affectionate smile or a vicious sneer made no difference to him.

He thoroughly enjoyed punishing his feral neva.

If she dismissed his thoughtfulness, he would tie her to a rafter and flog manners into her.

And if she appreciated his efforts, he would make her come until she passed out.

He carried her stolen bottle of wine and bite sized pastries filled with chicken, cheese, and beef.

The chefs said nothing when he filled his plate with selections reserved for the royal table.

They would rearrange the dishes to disguise his pilferage.

His little brother would never know he’d taken food off his table for his little neva, but he knew—and it brought a smile to his lips.

He’d searched the kitchen, but knew the fruits his neva desired were in short supply.

A handful of individually wrapped chocolates—the ones his brother kept for the unfortunate females who found themselves in his bed—would have to do.

Chocolates weren’t fruit, but Dimitri speculated it was the sweetness she missed.

He entered their room and glanced at Astrid, then set her dinner on his desk. She met his eyes as he passed. His princess looked at home, seated on the edge of their bed. Graymalkin lounged over her legs, occupying her entire lap. She continued stroking his cat’s chest as he washed his hands.

Dimitri noticed Astrid watching the way he lathered his hands under the warm water.

Her midnight gaze trailed up his forearms and a faint flush brightened her cheeks when she reached his chest. Her brow knit together, and she turned her attention back to Graymalkin.

Her scrutiny bemused him. He was a striking specimen of a Ledivite male.

And shouldn’t a wife freely admire her husband?

Dimitri strolled back to his desk and took a seat. Astrid stood, to Graymalkin’s disagreement, and sauntered toward him. His shirt was too large for her frame but the way it hugged her curves… His female in his clothes. What more could he want?

“If you’re going to insist I sit on your lap while you hand-feed me, could we get a bigger chair?

” she asked. Her nails ran along his embroidered lapel as she lowered herself onto his thigh.

A smile curled her full lips, and she toyed with the collar of his shirt.

“A couch or settee.” She leaned closer and whispered, “A throne.”

Rage and jealousy coiled through his muscles. Her ambition turned her gaze toward his brother.

“A would-be queen,” he rasped, daring her to admit her betrayal.

She curled up against him, laying her head on his shoulder. “It’s my birthright. Clorea is unoccupied. We could rule as Queen and King Consort.”

Relief flooded him and a low laugh slipped past his lips. He wrapped her in his arms and tucked his neva against him. Her quiet scent of honey and wildflowers gave his mind peace. She wouldn’t abandon him now.

“My cousins would aid me. We would be unstoppable together. The Death Spirit and his soul weaver. Who could stand against us?”

His soul weaver.

Her words left a hollow ache in his chest. Dimitri smoothed his hand over her thigh before retrieving the plate. He held the dish in front of her but instead of taking one of the pastries, she pushed off his chest and stilled.

He lifted the plate a fraction. “You’ve pleased me, neva. Eat.”

Astrid’s midnight eyes flicked from him to the golden puffs and returned to him. Her back tensed as she studied him. She slowly reached for a flaky square, shifting her weight away from him. Dimitri thinned his lips. His feral neva still distrusted him deeply. He’d been rough with her. Demanding.

Nothing good or kind survived within him. Gentle emotions equated to pain, and he’d crushed them years ago.

But his vicious neva housed even less. He would feed her violent impulses and worship her as his queen. He had an eternity with her and with time—and tributes—he would win her loyalty.

She was his, and he would never let her go.

He trailed his fingers along the dip of her spine as she took delicate bites of the stuffed pastry.

She finished her first piece and raised her chin at the glass. “Can you pour me some wine?” she asked before selecting her next flaky square.

Dimitri did as she asked and handed her the thin, fluted glass.

Astrid took the glass and swirled its contents before bringing it under her nose.

She inhaled and a hint of a smile touched her lips.

She sipped the dark liquid and glanced at him.

“I thought you’d said you didn’t have honeyed wine here. This is almost as good as home.”

“This is home,” Dimitri corrected as she set the glass on his desk. He pressed two fingers onto the base and slid it from the precarious edge Astrid left it on. “Sweet wine is a lowborn libation here. The nobles drink red. It pairs best with the meats served at their tables.”

“Do the lowborn not eat meat?” Astrid asked.

Her curiosity appealed to him. Most noble females only cared to understand how far their male’s influence reached and what it could afford them.

“Mostly rabbit and fowl,” Dimitri answered.

“Swan is a fowl.” Astrid glanced down at his signet ring. She lifted her lashes, and a mischievous smile crossed her lips. “Did a lowborn female cook it for you before you came to court?”

“Are you jealous?” he asked.

She licked the flaky remnants of her last square from her finger and laughed softly. “I’m trying to understand you.”

“My mother was lowborn. Her family raised swans. They’re bigger than ducks, yield more meat. She was a soul weaver and caught the eye of my father.”

“Your mother was a soul weaver?” Astrid blinked at him. “Why don’t you follow the Three-Faced Mother?”

“Because, neva, fate is not kind. Why would I bend to her? Vinceret is who we worship here. It always made more sense.”

“Do you have other family? Keres told me you came to court as a distant relative to the King.”

The lie his father perpetuated.

“No one worth mentioning,” Dimitri answered.

As Astrid savored her meal, the muscles knotting her back relaxed. She turned toward him and held a stuffed pastry bite to his lips.

“Do you eat?” she asked.

Dimitri leaned forward and opened his mouth, kissing her fingertips as she hand-fed him. The same way she’d done to him. Her cheeks flushed, adding a hint of lavender to her complexion and Dimitri chuckled.

“Miss my tongue, neva?” he asked darkly.

The color on her face deepened. “I’d like to return to the library.”

Dimitri humored her change of subject and placed the empty dish on his desk. He held his little academic, committing the feel of her satiny skin beneath his hands to memory.

Life with Astrid would be agreeable once she accepted her place beside him. He imagined books piled into towers beside their bed. She would lay on her stomach and read with the sheets bunched low on her waist.

“Do you have a subject you’d like me to bring back to our room, neva?” Dimitri asked, smoothing her hair to one shoulder.

She glanced at him and arched a brow. “In exchange for…”

“Consider it… an act of kindness,” Dimitri murmured. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist. Astrid went so still he wondered if she held her breath.

“I want the war archive. Every Ledivite battle over the past fifteen years,” she said after a beat of silence.

Dimitri took a deep breath, contemplating her request as her scent of wildflowers and honey enveloped his senses. “The knowledge you desire is far from commonplace.”

“So are the things you desire, my lord,” Astrid retorted. “If your present kindness extends to my mother, I would like her released.”

“Do you want her naturalized as a Ledivite?”

Astrid wrinkled her nose. “No. I want her released to my family.”

Dimitri held up a finger, countering, “One battle from our war archive.”

“Twelve years ago, there was a battle at Incarnadine Fields.”

Dimitri blinked. He knew the details of that particular battle intimately.

“Your people lost,” Astrid continued, “and I want to read about the massacre.”

Cunning little neva. “How long have you been researching Ledivion?”

“Since the moment I realized my hand would be sold to the highest bidder.”

Dimitri nodded and pulled the folded parchment on his desk closer, tapping its center. “I will be leaving shortly. I need to set an example, and will return in two nights’ time. The servants will bring you furs within the hour so you may sleep comfortably in my absence.”

“You’re leaving me alone?”

He glanced up at her and found her scrutinizing him. “There is no place in all the kingdoms where I would not find you.”

“Your absence will be known. What do you expect me to do when the enemies you’ve made come for me?”

Dimitri stroked her cheek and smiled. “Kill them.”