Ten

Ten

As the sun set, I stepped out of the tent, finding that most of the camp had already been packed. I was exhausted and my body ached; both things would make tonight’s ride difficult. I was also unreasonably frustrated with myself and my feelings for Adrian. I even hated to call them feelings, but I was finding it harder to hate the actual person behind the monster, and that was something I had not expected in our short time together. I reasoned that the answer was simple: Adrian had been kind. He had buried my people according to our customs. He had left his soldiers to aid my father against an unknown threat. He had kept his promises to me.

But those promises were for Lara, not Cordova—and those were my people too. In the end, he would kill anyone who did not submit to his will.

I had to remember that.

“Princess Isolde.”

I turned toward the feminine voice that had used my old title and met the dark stare of Adrian’s vassal. As I studied her, I remembered what Adrian had said—that they were richly rewarded, which was evident in the furs and blue silk she was draped in. Half of her blond hair was pinned up, and the rest fell in curls around her shoulders. Her features were pretty, small and pointed, but there was something vicious in her gaze: a dark thing that lived beneath her slight facade.

I had no trouble showing her my own vicious side, seeing no need to hide it. “I am married to your king, which makes me your queen,” I said.

Her mouth opened, her face paled, but she recovered well, offering a laugh that grated against my ears. “Of course, I apologize. I am Safira, Adrian’s favored vassal.”

My eyes dropped to her gloved hand, which she extended to me.

I did not take it and lifted my gaze to hers once more. “As King Adrian’s favored vassal, I would think you would be familiar with the etiquette of approaching a royal,” I said.

Safira’s fake smile fell. “Of course I am familiar with etiquette,” she answered, though she still did not move to bow. “I merely felt that we were more equal, given we are responsible for Adrian’s pleasure.”

“You thought wrong,” I said. “If you approach me again, I expect you will curtsy and address me by the appropriate title.”

I was a little relieved when Safira dropped her false warmth. Her expression became icy, her cheeks rosy, as she answered, “My, you certainly have adjusted well to your new position.”

“I was bred to be a queen,” I said and took a step toward her. “Just as I was bred to dispose of things that bother me. Will you continue to bother me, Safira?”

Her mouth pressed into a tight line, and she lifted her chin, glaring at me. “If you touch me, you will face Adrian’s wrath.”

I had not been married to Adrian long, but last night, he’d essentially offered me her place. I did not think she was as irreplaceable as she thought. I took another step toward her.

“Do not threaten me with my husband. If I come for you, no one will protect you.” I straightened. “Best to begin planning how you will fight your own battles, Safira. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

The woman stood there a moment, chest heaving, and I had the fleeting thought that if she had a blade, she would go for my heart, but I did not think she was brave enough to go head-to-head with me—not after she’d seen me fight my own people.

She curtsied, and I offered a cold, triumphant smile.

“Your Majesty,” she said in parting before she turned on her heels, curls bouncing, and cut a path through camp.

“Making friends?”

I turned to find Sorin standing behind me, an amused smirk on his face.

“More like managing expectations,” I said.

“Safira is jealous,” Sorin said, as if I could not guess. “Though after what I heard last night, even I am jealous.”

I raised a brow, glaring. “You were across camp.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Sorin,” I warned.

“All I am saying is your cries of pleasure were heard for miles.”

“Does Daroc punish you often for your mouth?”

“All the time,” he said with a wink, and then someone cleared their throat behind us. We turned and found Daroc looming. He obviously did not appreciate my humor as much as Sorin. Adrian’s second-in-command gave me a pointed look before his gaze slid to his lover.

“Sorin, King Adrian has a job for you.”

“Good afternoon to you,” Sorin said, and though he was being playful, Daroc’s eyes widened, and he hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” Daroc mumbled. “Good afternoon.”

I looked between them, thinking how odd it was that they were still so awkward…hundreds of years later.

Sorin rolled his eyes. “It is, thank you.” Then he looked to me as he bowed. “Another time, my queen.”

Sorin left, and when my gaze returned to Daroc, he was staring at me, his lips pressed thin, a hard line between his brows. I got the feeling he did not trust me, and that was just as well, because I did not trust him.

“Any news from Lara?” I asked, wondering what had transpired since Commander Killian had returned to High City with Gavriel. I was anxious about how my father would handle the massacre at Vaida and could not deny that I dreaded the rumors that would spread. It was inevitable, no matter the truth, that vampires would be blamed, and normally, that would not bother me, except now it did. And it had nothing to do with Adrian’s kindnesses and everything to do with how my people thought of me since my marriage.

I hated to imagine an even greater divide between me and my people.

“None,” he said. “Perhaps today.”

Daroc excused himself, and I turned my attention to the sky. Above me, the clouds were white and wispy, but tendrils of red bled through like blood in water. I followed those threads to the horizon, where the shades of red stained the sky. I would be beneath that sky within hours, within the borders of Revekka, surrounded by an enemy who sustained their lives by stealing mine. I did not know the politics of Adrian’s court, did not know if vampires could ever respect a mortal queen, but I would do my best to survive.

No, not just survive, I thought. Conquer.

“Mourning the sun?”

I turned to find Adrian standing beside me. I found his question strange, considering the direction of my thoughts.

“A little less,” I admitted and then said something that even shocked me. “Since you seem to keep your promises.”

I was offering him as much as I could give—a kernel of trust that was as valuable as a blade in our world—but also reminding him of his vow.

His eyes seemed to glint at my compliment, but I frowned, wondering how long until I was left feeling like a fool for my belief in a monster.

Adrian held out his hand.

“Come,” he said. “I am eager to depart. We will be in Revekka soon.”

Taking his hand was easier now. His fingers closed around mine, and when he settled behind me in the saddle, a warmth bloomed in my chest that flushed my face. I was glad that my back was to him so he could not see how his touch was affecting me. I could hardly be blamed with thoughts of last night fresh on my mind. Even now as I recalled our passion, phantom threads of pleasure twisted through my body, and I shivered.

Adrian’s hand came around my stomach, and he pressed me tight against him, his mouth near my ear.

“As eager as I am to be within my kingdom, I will delay our progress if you continue to think these thoughts.”

I turned my head slightly, his lips close to mine.

“Am I hearing that you are not as eager for me?”

His answering chuckle sent a thrill through me, and then his hand lowered, dipping between my thighs as his mouth closed over my shoulder, teeth scraping through my clothing.

“Adrian.” His name escaped between my teeth, and I inhaled.

“Yes, my queen?”

“What are you doing?”

“Proving myself,” he answered and jerked my head toward his, fingers digging into my skin as he parted my lips with his tongue. He tasted cold but sweet as he kissed me hungrily while cupping my heat with his other hand. It was indecent. It was carnal. It was lust. I didn’t want it to end, but as that thought blossomed in my mind, he released me all at once, and I was left dizzy and aroused as he urged Shadow forward into the thick of the woods, putting distance between us and his army, still making our way toward Revekka. Now all I could focus on was the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers curled into my palms as I thought of how I wanted to be full of him.

“Hold on to that passion, Sparrow. I will make you sing again.”

I did as he guided me against him, my head resting on his shoulder. He drew his cloak about us and lifted my tunic, hand dipping beneath my leggings, where his thumb brushed my clit. I heaved a sigh that shook my bones.

“Are you always this insatiable?” he whispered against my ear.

I swallowed hard and answered truthfully—there was no reason to merely think it. He would hear, though I kept the answer short, clipped. It slipped between my teeth angrily. “Since you,” I said.

Even so, he rewarded me, sliding into me while his thumb teased and circled. The closer I came to release, the harder he breathed, the more kisses he peppered down my face and neck. He stayed deep, curling inside me, and as my muscles clenched around him, he siphoned pleasure from me until I came.

When he was finished, he pressed a kiss to my temple, and it sent a strange rush through me. It was the first time he had kissed me like that, but I felt as if I’d been here before—held by him, touched by him, just like this. It wasn’t just the action, it was the way he had done it—gentle and sure, as if to ask are you all right?

I lingered on those thoughts as we slowed our pace so the soldiers and their vassals could rejoin us, and then I fell asleep in his arms.

Later, when I woke, we were beneath the red sky. From a distance, it always looked one shade of red—a crimson color that reminded me of fresh blood—but now that I was here, I saw it for what it was: shades of red that deepened even to black. It felt so ominous—a representation of the threat vampires had presented over the last two hundred years. How else had this landscape changed over time, I wondered. Did the rain fall in crimson sheets? Did the rivers run red?

Behind me, Adrian chuckled. “That is ridiculous,” he said.

I glared at him over my shoulder. “You live beneath a red sky and spread plague at will. How are my thoughts so ridiculous?”

He did not respond, and I sat up a little straighter in the saddle.

The sky wasn’t the only part of Revekka that had an unnerving effect on me. All around us were tall, naked trees, and while it was winter, it was evident that even in the spring, nothing grew here. The bark was scorched and black, the earth at our feet barren, and it was like that for as far as I could see.

I had never felt so uneasy, especially in nature, but this place felt wrong, and the only way I could think to describe it was that something horrible had happened here. I could feel it—a heavy dread that was just as present as the clothes upon my body.

“This is the Starless Forest,” Adrian said. “The trees—they sprang from blood.”

“What happened here?” I asked.

“Witches were hung from these trees during King Dragos’s reign,” he said.

I shivered. Revekka belonged to Dragos over two hundred years ago—before the Dark Era—and had declared that all who possessed magic should burn. Mobs formed, hunts began, and people who thought they would never kill were suddenly happy to murder anyone they suspected possessed the ability to use magic, even without proof.

It was the will of Asha, Dragos had said, to destroy evil.

“Do you think you would feel such horror if those who died here were truly evil?” Adrian asked, and I flinched, both at the fact that he had been listening to my thoughts and by his tone.

“Even the worst of us fear death,” I said.

I wished I could see Adrian’s face as I spoke. I wondered if he feared death, or did he feel like his existence was already some kind of end? Still, this wasn’t just the horror of those who had deserved it; it was the horror of the innocents who had died during the Burning.

“If they were not evil,” I said quietly, “what were they?”

“Powerful,” he said.

“Is that not the way of kings? To destroy those who would make them weak?”

“It is the way of cowards,” Adrian said.

“And yet you attack those who have no defense against your onslaught. What does that make you?”

“A monster,” he said without hesitation.

“Do you really believe that?” I asked, curious.

There was a difference between a monster and someone who could be monstrous. As much as it felt wrong to consider it, I wondered if I had mistaken one for the other. Once again, I was treading into dangerous territory. The moment I began to see the humanity in Adrian was the moment I truly betrayed my people.

“I can be anything. Your jailor, your savior, your lover.” His mouth was closer to my ear as he added, “Your monster.”

We continued in silence for a few moments as I turned over Adrian’s words. The more I considered what I’d learned of the past, the more questions I had.

“If your witches were so powerful, why did they not defend themselves?”

“What do you know about witches?”

I hesitated. I knew what I had been told. We had been taught to fear witches since we were young. Quiet, Nadia would tell me, or the witches will steal you away and gobble you whole! As I had gotten older, they had morphed into something far more evil, their atrocities shared via the histories transcribed by royal librarians and scholars of Cordova. They described a group of women who conspired to starve and kill kingdoms, spelling kings to tax and go to battle, hoping the people of Cordova would turn to them for support.

It was a twisted road to power.

But Dragos had discovered their plan and called for the hunt. The years following were full of fire and a fear of magic.

“None of that is true,” Adrian said.

“And I am supposed to believe you over a lifetime of history?” I challenged.

I felt him shrug. “History is just perspective. It changes depending on your side.”

“Then tell me yours.”

He took a moment to continue, and I wondered what gave him pause. At last, he spoke. “Two hundred years ago, a coven governed magic in Cordova. They were called High Coven, and they were dedicated to ensuring the practice of magic remained peaceful. These witches you think of as evil, they only wanted to nurture humanity and earth.

“But their leader saw opportunities to grow, to cultivate peace, so she assigned a witch to each kingdom. They would be a bridge between the king, his people, and the land. They were never meant to be weapons, but that was what Dragos wanted, and when they refused, he had them—and thousands of innocents—killed. So you see, your hero is really the villain.”

“No one is that good,” I said, unwilling to believe that the witches had motives so pure.

“No one should be.”

I was not completely willing to change my mind about witches and witchcraft, and it was difficult to believe that Dragos wasn’t merely doing what Adrian would do as a king. Had he not chosen to execute my people for their treason too?

“And you? Who were you all those years ago?” I asked.

Adrian wished to lecture me on the past but never brought up his own, and I wanted to know—who had he been before the curse?

I felt his body go rigid against mine as he answered, “A different person.”

We did not speak after that, traveling only a few hours more before stopping to camp. Adrian brought a pail of hot water from a nearby spring that I used to freshen up. Once we arrived at the Red Palace, the first thing I would do was order a hot bath. My body and bones demanded it.

Since we had been on the road, I’d developed a bit of a routine, going straight to the tent to sleep, but as dawn drew nearer, I felt restless. I stepped outside, scanning the grounds for Adrian, who was nowhere in sight. A few feet in front of me was a fire the vampires had built Where Sorin sat there with Isac and Miha. When they saw me, they waved me over.

“Join us, my queen!” Sorin said, holding up a wooden cup.

Curious, I approached but kept my distance, not liking how close they sat to the sparking fire or the way the wind blew the flames this way and that. Perhaps it was an irrational fear, to catch aflame, but it was my fear all the same.

“What are you drinking?” I asked.

“Mead,” he said.

“Is that something you will throw up later?”

He shrugged. “We’ll find out.”

Isac laughed and Miha rolled her eyes.

“Where is Adrian?” I asked.

“The king is feeding,” said Isac. His long hair was pulled into a knot at the back of his head, and he lounged on the ground, his back propped up against a rock.

My mood instantly darkened at the news. Feeding meant that he was with Safira.

Miha paused what she was working on, which looked like a carving of some kind, and asked, “Have you need of him? I can relay a message.”

“No,” I said, gritting my teeth. I realized I could not expect Adrian not to feed, especially when I was unwilling to give him my blood. Still, I could not escape what I’d seen in the tent—the way he had held her, how she had clung to him. His mouth, his skin, his body, it was mine. I did not like that Safira felt she was somehow entitled to my husband because he fed from her.

I sat beside Sorin with my back to the fire.

“If it bothers you that much, just offer him your vein,” Sorin said.

I glared at him. “That will never happen.”

He gave a wry smile, exchanging a glance with both Isac and Miha. Still, as I watched them, I found I had questions about that too.

“Tell me more about it,” I said.

“What do you want to know?” Sorin asked.

“I don’t know. Blood is your sustenance, correct? Does everyone feed from vassals?”

“Not everyone. Lovers feed from each other.”

My face flushed. “Every day?”

Sorin and Isac chuckled, but Miha remained quiet.

“Most days,” Isac answered. “But we feel most of our hunger after sex.”

“Why?”

Isac shrugged. “I don’t know. It is a need, an impulse, and when we satisfy it, it is like the rush you feel at the peak of release.”

Now my skin felt impossibly hot. I thought of all the times Adrian and I had come together—had he left my side to feed on Safira? Or perhaps he fed before to ensure he didn’t bite me. Either way, I did not like that he would do either.

“If you are to live among us, you must understand our bloodlust,” Sorin said. “As much as it is life-sustaining, it is also a bond. Granting Adrian access to your blood is the highest show of trust.”

“But it is your choice,” Miha added, looking up momentarily from her work.

My throat felt tight. All this talk of lovers and sex and blood, it made me feel heated and light-headed. Still, hearing the way Sorin spoke of it was different. It sounded sacred to them, which made the fact that Adrian took from Safira nightly even worse.

“And…how can I trust it will only be bloodletting?” I asked.

Sorin’s brows lowered. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you became a vampire somehow,” I pointed out. “How were you turned?”

“That,” he said, “is a deeper bite.”

“It is a great insult to hear another man teach his wife of bloodlust,” Adrian said, suddenly appearing from the darkness around us.

My eyes collided with his, and I rose to my feet.

“I asked Sorin to explain,” I said quickly. “Would you have him deny his queen?”

Adrian glared, baring his teeth before turning on his heels and entering the tent. I offered a quick, apologetic glance to Sorin and the others before following Adrian inside, stumbling when he twisted toward me suddenly, his eyes alight.

“You should have asked me,” he said, jamming his finger at his own chest. “I would have told you. I wanted to tell you.”

I stared, shocked by how strongly he was reacting to this.

“Was I supposed to assume blood sucking was a sacred process when you feed from anyone with a heartbeat?”

“I do not feed from just anyone,” he said.

“Forgive me,” I mocked. “You feed from your vassal, who feels responsible for your pleasure. You expect me to believe in a sanctity of something you also offer to her?”

“It is not the same,” he said.

“You fuck her and drain her blood. How is it not the same?”

“I have never fucked her,” he snarled.

I felt like my chest was going to explode. After a moment of quiet, he tilted his head back, which made the shadows darken the hollows of his cheeks.

“If I were to partake of your blood, I would have no use for her,” he said. He was attacking my jealousy, as if to say the way to end this is to give me everything.

“And if you fucked her, you would have no use for me,” I said.

“You say that as if you would not mind,” he said, closing the space between us.

I shouldn’t, but he already knew I cared. By the fucking goddess. Why did I care?

“Think of how I touched you last night.” He trailed his fingers down my face. “Imagine another woman in your place.”

I gripped his wrist to keep him from continuing his exploration, but I did not pull away from his touch.

“I don’t want to care,” I said. I was desperate not to care, even as resentment built inside me—toward Adrian, toward Safira.

“You do not have to be embarrassed by your desire, even if it is for me. Sex is a primal need. You have every right to satisfy it.”

At his statement, I wondered when I’d departed from my original idea of what sex was supposed to be like between us. It was meant to be a passionate release, not an emotional investment, and here I was, fighting jealousy over all of it, even the bloodletting.

We stood chest to chest, my head bent back so that I could meet his gaze, and I wasn’t sure I liked who stared back—a man with gentle eyes and a soft expression, a man who longed for a connection I could not give.

His palm pressed to my cheek; his lips hovered near mine. “One day, I will make love to you, and I look forward to that day.”

“Are you a dreamer, Your Majesty?” I whispered.

A small smile curled his lips. “No,” he said, his breath caressing my mouth. “I am a conqueror.”

Then Adrian kissed me, lifting me off my feet as he guided my legs around his waist. I twined my fingers in his hair and pried myself free to look into his strange, hungry eyes.

“I want you to stop feeding from Safira,” I said. “Find another vassal.”

I expected him to argue, but he didn’t. His grip tightened on me, his erection pressing hard against me.

“I will do as you wish,” he said and then consumed me.