“You can pair your alcohol with these.” She shoved the velvet box into his stomach, and Acacius let out a grunt. “A gift to express my apologies.”
Making no move to accept it, he looked from the gift box up to Marina, skeptical, as if it would hex him just from the touch. “A gift?” he echoed.
“Yes,” she said.
He stared at her for a beat, attempting to gauge the empty surface of her umbral gaze.
In all the years he’d observed her, not once had he ever witnessed hergivingsomething to another. Well, other than punishment.
She pushed the box harder into his abdomen. “How long are you going to make me hold this before you take it?”
He snatched the gift box from her. “I do enjoy you begging for my forgiveness.”
“It’s called sincerity.” She joined her hands in a proper manner in front of her navel, waiting.
Discomfort clenched in his stomach. He didn’t want to open it in front of her. It felt vulnerablesomehow, being forced to acknowledge this thing she’d given him.
However, she persisted, refusing to sit until he did.
Acacius let out an annoyed sigh and began unraveling the bow. His fingers moved slowly, dread gathering in his chest. He was certain whatever was inside would harm him in some way.
He pulled the lid off warily, peeking in. The box was filled with fruit, a division of raspberries and blackberries on a black handkerchief.
He blinked.
What the hell?
His favorite marriage of foods.
The gesture was oddly considerate.
So veryunlikeher.
Acacius narrowed his eyes at her, unnerved. “How did you know?”
She swung her dress out of the way and finally sat down, pushing up a gust of warm vanilla. “We’ve attended the same monotonous dinner parties for ages, Acacius. Do you honestly think I have never caught glimpses of you sneaking a berry under your mask?”
Her observation skills were undoubtedly her most bothersome quality.
“Howkindof you.” Acacius scooted her into the table a little too brusquely, cutting the edge into her abdomen.
A small grunt escaped her, and he smiled, fabricating to his chair across from her.
She pushed back from the table to create a small distance between it and her stomach, eyeing him with pointed disdain.
A hunched figure swathed in a dark cloak entered the room, their face concealed by an animal skull with small, twining horns. It hobbled with the assistance of its bone-carved staff, a bottle of wine in its other hand.
“I must say, your decor is gorgeous.” Marina leaned into the bouquet, closing her index and middle finger around a thorny stem to bring the rose to her nose. “Do you grow the flowers yourself?”
The Bound’s sharp claws clanked against the glass as it filled their chalices.
Acacius stripped from his blazer and handed it off to the Bound before sitting. If he were going to tolerate conversation with Marina, he needed to ease the density in his chest, and the snug fabric of his blazer only overstimulated his nerves.
“In a sense, yes.” Acacius downed his drink, the wine seizing his tastebuds.
The Bound refilled it, backed away, and stood like a statue behind Acacius, awaiting its next command. It could read Acacius’s heart and knew his desires before even he did. It would do what Acacius silently demanded of it.
“I expected you to live in some kind of black hole, swallowing all beauty. I didn’t think of you as a florist.” Marina sat back, smoothing the linen napkin over her lap.
