But to let me find out this monstrous secret the way he did, and then stroll out here this morning as if all is well in the world … my anger flares at his callousness, and it helps drown out my fear of him.
“You don’t have to guard your tongue, Romeria. As I’ve already told you, I would rather have your candor than your false fealty.” There’s amusement in his tone. “Speak freely. It’s just us here.”
“Is it, though?” I make a point of shifting my gaze toward his terrace.
“I assume you’re referring to my guest last night? The one you saw while skulking outside my bedchamber?”
“I was notskulking.” My cheeks redden. “And bringing a woman to your bed the night you announce we’re together was not a wise move.” Regardless of his sinister reasons. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
Zander’s eyebrows arch.
Maybe I should guard my tongue a touch, but now that he’s committed himself to this scheme, I feel less risk of punishment with speaking my mind. If he wanted me dead, he could have killed me a thousand times over. “I hope you were at least discreet about your needs.”
“I’m always discreet,” he counters smoothly.
“Is it normal that the king would openly screw other women when his future queen is in the room beside him, or is that only our arrangement?” How often will he be bringing women to his room?
“Screw?”
“Bed. Hump. Fuck.”
His eyes flash. That, he understands. “Not as normal as it would be for the queen to join him.”
My mouth gapes.
“Should I expect this foul mood in the mornings going forward?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any more life-altering surprises to share with me?”
He mock frowns. “Not that I can foresee.”
I shake my head. He’s far too glib about it, especially for a man who last night used his disturbing nature as a warning against developing feelings for him. As if I ever would.
He sighs heavily, and when he speaks again, there is a hint more somberness in his voice. “Honestly, I don’t know what would be normal, given a Ybarisan and Islorian have not married for two thousand years, and your needs are not the same as mine. The need for mortal blood, I mean.” He surveys where my hand grips the front of my robe. “The other one is quite universal.”
I tighten my hold, swallowing against the unwelcome physical reaction the attention stirs.
Something flashes in his eyes. “The tributary left immediately after, so those needs were not met, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” I snap.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “At least you are not so terrified of me today.”
I set my chin. “It was … shocking, is all.” But I’ve learned to bury my fear to survive. “Tributary? What is that?”
“A human servant who makes themselves available to us specifically for feeding.”
And fucking, apparently, if he’s in the mood. How do those deadly looking incisors slide out? I never felt so much as a hint of them when we kissed that night.
“You cannot see them unless I make a point of showing them to you.”
I realize I’m staring at Zander’s mouth, searching for evidence. I refocus on my mug of tea. But his words are not lost on me—he intentionally revealed them last night. He wanted me to know the truth about him.
I hesitate. “Are you a daaknar?”
“They are repulsive beasts with decaying flesh and tattered wings. Is that what you think of me now?” he says, a sharp edge in his tone.
I shake my head. Opposite of that, despite the fangs, which were not nearly as long or horrid as that of the demon’s. It’s obvious I’ve hit a nerve. “There is one rather glaring similarity.”