Twelve

Twelve

Once Adrian left, my legs gave out and I sank to the bed.

Turning me?

We had talked a lot about bloodletting, but the only time he had mentioned turning was in the form of a threat.

I think you want to kill me, and if that is the case, I should warn you now that any attempt will be met with my wrath.

So far, he had not upheld his warning. Now, I wondered if he would truly turn me without my consent, or if he assumed I would beg for it, much like he’d assumed I’d beg him to partake of my blood.

Exhaustion settled heavily on my shoulders. Adrian had stolen my energy. Every encounter with him had me on edge, my whole body twisted and knotted, waiting for his next move—would we fight or fuck? Would I always feel so torn between him and my people? As I sat here upon this regal bed, so much more extravagant than the one in my small bedroom in Lara, I realized I had not thought much beyond my arrival at the Red Palace, aside from how I would defeat Adrian. And while I was still dedicated to that mission, I was beginning to think that I needed to consider how I would reign.

Perhaps the more I embraced my role, the more willing Adrian would be to open up about his past—a past I hoped unlocked the key to some kind of weakness.

A knock drew my attention and was followed by a voice.

“My queen, it is Ana Maria. Adrian sent me to attend to you.”

I rose to my feet and opened the door, my gaze colliding with a pair of striking eyes, fringed by thick lashes. They were the color of a summer sky, her hair was thick and almost silvery, her lips plump and pink. Ana Maria was beautiful, and I was momentarily taken aback by it. She wore an emerald gown that reminded me of Lara, of the spring when the trees were blooming and the sun was bright, and suddenly, I was homesick.

I could only guess at what the woman was thinking, but as she stared at me, she seemed just as stunned by me, though I doubted it was because of my beauty. There was a flash in her eyes, something akin to disappointment, and the smile she’d prepared for me faltered. I wondered if she had expected someone different, and what sort of investment she had in what Adrian’s wife looked like? Perhaps she had not expected someone of island descent.

To her credit, she quickly recovered. “My queen,” she said again and bowed. “I heard you were injured.”

“Yes, come in,” I said, stepping aside to let her enter. I worried once the door was closed that things between us would become awkward. I was not familiar with this space or how to entertain, and the only chairs were near the fire—which I was not going to approach—but once Ana Maria was inside, she asked, “May I see your arm?”

I extended it toward her, and she peeled back the dressings Euric had wrapped. As the bandage came free, it felt like another layer of my skin was being removed, and I inhaled sharply.

Ana Maria frowned. The wound looked far more irritated than it had earlier.

“Adrian could not heal it,” I said. “He said it was because of magic. Do you know why?”

She glanced at me and then said, “We do not even know why he is able to heal at all.”

That surprised me. I’d thought all vampires could heal others, but it appeared only the Blood King had that gift. “If he cannot fix this, how will you?” I asked.

“I studied medicine.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling silly, and my face flushed.

She offered a small smile and crossed the room toward the hearth. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of setting up before you arrived.”

“No, of course not,” I said. Then I hesitated. “How did you know I was injured?”

“Adrian sent Sorin ahead,” she answered.

I hadn’t even noticed. I realized I had no idea how quickly vampires could actually travel without the burden of mortals. The closest I’d come to witnessing their speed was when Daroc had killed the…girl. I flinched at the thought, recalling how swift his actions had been. How human she’d looked in death.

Ana Maria hung a cast iron teapot over the fire and arranged her supplies. I admired how comfortable she was near it as I kept my distance, choosing to sit on the bed.

“How well do you know Adrian?”

She laughed—a sound that made my chest feel warm. “Well enough. He is my cousin.”

“Your…cousin?” I asked, surprised, though now that I thought about it, they did look alike. I had not thought about Adrian having family. “Did he…turn you?”

“He did,” Ana Maria answered but offered nothing else.

“Is it…rude to ask?”

“For some, it is,” she explained. “It depends on the circumstances by which they were turned. The oldest among us did not have a choice. We were not…in control then.”

I swallowed thickly, understanding.

“And…Adrian. Did he have a choice?”

Ana Maria did not answer as she took the teapot from the fire, setting it upon a cast iron trivet. Finally, she met my gaze. “I suppose it depends on who you ask,” she said.

She placed a few herbs into a mesh bag, soaking it in the hot water before placing it upon my skin. It smelled like peppermint and wintergreen, and once the heat of the water wore off, it began to cool and soothe. While the medicine took effect, Ana Maria made a cup of tea with a few of the supplies in her bags. As she poured water over the mixture, a strong, minty smell wafted toward me.

I wrinkled my nose.

“It is willow bark,” she said. “It will help with your pain.”

I was skeptical but encouraged by how good my arm was feeling. After a few sips, I set it aside.

“I do not know why I am here,” I said almost absently.

“You are here because Adrian wanted you,” Ana Maria said.

“But why?” I asked, meeting her eyes. “He could have had anyone, taken anyone else.”

He could have wed his vassal, and no one would have thought twice, because he did not need a union to conquer.

Ana Maria looked at me, and as she did, she slid her palms together. “You’re wrong,” she said, and her voice shook, but not from nerves. She seemed almost frustrated with me. “It could have only been you. There is no one else.”

I stared, confused, both by her reaction and her words. Then she took a deep breath and swallowed, and I thought she was trying to hold back tears.

“I apologize, Your Majesty. I spoke out of turn,” she said. “You should rest. Your lady-in-waiting will be along shortly to help you get ready for tonight’s feast.”

She curtsied and practically fled.

How strange, I thought as I fell heavily upon the covers of my bed. I did not realize I had closed my eyes until I was roused by a knock at the door.

“Your Majesty? It is Violeta. I have come to help you get ready for tonight.”

I rose from the surprising warmth of the bed, still groggy, and made my way to the door where I found a young woman waiting. She was short and thin, her limbs pale white and her hair a dull brown. She had delicate features—round eyes, a small nose, and thin lips. The only color in her face was her cheeks, which were rosy. I did not know if it was a natural tint, the cold, or perhaps she was nervous to meet me.

“You’re human,” I said, surprised.

Her blush deepened, and she bowed her head, turning the movement into a curtsy.

“Yes,” she said. “King Adrian has appointed me as your lady-in-waiting. He also advised you would want a bath.”

My eyes shifted to see a set of servants behind her holding a large copper tub.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, stepping aside.

Violeta hesitated, probably at my expression of gratitude, but she entered the room, instructing the servants to place the tub before the fire.

“Not there,” I said.

Violeta and the servants halted, staring at me in surprise.

“Can you place it near the window,” I said, and because I felt like I needed to offer an explanation for why, I added, “I’d like to look at the view while I bathe.”

I did not even know what was outside these leaded windows, but anything was better than being near fire.

Violeta did not hesitate. “Of course, my queen,” she said.

After a few trips back and forth by the servants, the tub was full of steaming water.

I shed my clothes and entered the bath, groaning with relief as I relaxed against the edge and closed my eyes. After a moment, a sensual and rich scent filled the air. I looked at Violeta, who froze, arm suspended over the water as she dropped something into my water.

“What is that?” I asked.

“J-jasmine,” she answered. “Lady Ana Maria said it would relax you. I’m sorry. I should have asked—”

“No, it’s…fine.”

I had only asked because the smell was familiar, and yet I could not pinpoint why. I watched as Violeta finished adding the drops and then reached for a cloth.

“If you’d like, I can scrub your back and your hair.”

I let her, and when I was finished, I stood from the bath, happy to feel clean. I toweled off, and Violeta helped me into a silk robe. I expected her to ask me to sit by the fire while she brushed my hair to help it dry, but instead, she waited by the vanity—an ornate piece of gold furniture with an oval mirror.

Violeta did not seem overly concerned that my hair would be wet for the feast. She brushed it, leaving it slick to my head, and when she was finished, she asked, “What would you like to wear tonight?”

She walked across the room to a wardrobe and threw open the doors to reveal a set of gorgeous dresses. I rose slowly and approached, reaching to touch one of the plush skirts.

“Who did these belong to?” I asked.

“King Adrian had them commissioned ahead of your arrival,” she explained.

That felt strange. Still, I could not deny that I was pleased.

“They’re all so beautiful,” I said.

“Shall I choose for you?” Violeta offered. I looked at her, and she hesitated. “If, that is, you are having a hard time choosing.”

I smiled at her. “Of course.”

She grinned and then reached for a red gown, clearly having already decided what I should wear. There were so many layers to the skirt, it took some time to get it over my head, and the laces at the back of the bodice had me regretting letting her pick, until I turned to face the mirror.

The gown was beautiful, and it accentuated every lush curve of my body—from the neckline that cut low between my breasts to the skirt that flared at my hips and dusted the floor. The long sleeves, though lace, still allowed me to holster my knives, which was a comfort to me. Despite not having any trouble with Adrian’s army on the way to Revekka, I did not trust the castle at large—and neither did Adrian, or he wouldn’t have warned me not to leave my room alone.

“Your jewelry, Your Majesty,” Violeta said. She approached with a wooden box lined with red velvet. Inside was a pair of dangling gold and ruby earrings and a matching necklace. They were far more extravagant than anything I’d ever owned, even being princess of Lara. I tried to ignore the fact that once they were on, they reminded me of blood. Still, staring at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognize the woman I’d been a week ago.

A knock at the door announced Ana Maria’s return. She had changed and was now wearing a black gown with a halter neckline that made her hair look like a glowing halo. Her skirt was full, crafted from layers of tulle, and it swept the floor as she moved.

“Oh, my queen, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Ana Maria,” I said.

“Just Ana,” she said and held out a small box. “I brought you something. A gift from Adrian.”

My brows lowered as I took it. “Can he not give it to me himself?”

“I think, perhaps, he wants to be surprised when he looks upon you tonight.”

It was ironic considering how he had visited me on our wedding day. Still, that was better than my reasoning. I had thought he was avoiding me after our earlier conversation. Except that since I’d met the Blood King, he’d rarely avoided confronting me about anything.

Inside the box was a tiara. It was stunning and, while simple in appearance, heavily embellished with diamonds on each fringe.

“Do you like it?” Ana asked.

“Of course,” I said, and as I placed it upon my head, I felt that it belonged there.

“Adrian will not look away,” said Ana.

“I suppose that depends on whether or not his favorite vassal is there,” I said. I imagined Safira would be present despite the fact that I’d asked Adrian not to drink from her.

Ana gave me an odd look.

“You do not know Adrian very well,” she said.

“You are right. I don’t.”

Ana frowned, and for the first time since I met her, I considered that perhaps she had expected me to be happy about this marriage.

“Are you ready?” she asked. “I shall escort you to the great hall.”

I supposed I was as ready as I would ever be, though I hated how my stomach roiled. I did not want to fear my enemy, and yet, I could not help feeling apprehensive. This was different from my wedding, different even from the small army I’d traveled to Revekka with. I was about to be surrounded by Adrian’s entire kingdom.

I was a sparrow in a den of wolves.

We left my new suite. Violeta stayed behind with instructions not to tend to the fire. I hoped by the time I returned to my room tonight, it would be nothing more than burning embers like Adrian had promised.

Unlike Castle Fiora, the hallways of the Red Palace were warmer and wider, which meant that Ana and I could walk side by side comfortably. Now that I felt better, I could appreciate the decor of the castle—black sconces dripping with crystals, tipped with tapered candles, large landscapes framed in thick, gold frames, and lavish, woven carpets. I wondered how much of it Adrian had changed since he had killed Dragos.

And how much of it he had scavenged from conquered villages.

As we ascended the stairs, I could see the entrance to the ballroom—gilded doors opened wide, inviting.

“What is expected of me tonight?” I asked Ana.

“You and Adrian will dance,” she said. “And after, you will stay close to him.”

“Perfect,” I said and took a breath which I held the closer we drew to the hall. I shall do the opposite.

The room was crowded, full of laughter and revelry. Humans feasted on food from a table while vampires pulled those same humans aside to drink from their veins. There was dancing and drinking and music, and above it all, elevated upon a precipice, was Adrian, who lounged upon his throne, looking exceptionally bored until his eyes found me and held, touching every part of me. He straightened, and the movement drew attention—first to him and then to me. Suddenly, the chaotic celebration ended, and as gazes turned to me, the crowd parted and then bowed, creating a path for me straight to Adrian.

But my eyes had shifted to Safira, who lingered near his throne, dressed in powder blue and silver. I had never seen them like this side by side, and it occurred to me how right they looked together. Her expression was tense, her eyes and mouth pinched, and I wondered if Adrian had spoken with her about no longer feeding from her. Still, why did she linger? Why was she in a place that elevated her above the rest? Not even Tanaka, the viceroy, lingered upon the dais with the king.

I did not follow the path made for me. Instead, I turned away, sweeping the crowd, my eyes narrowing upon a waiflike human.

“You,” I said, turning toward him.

His eyes widened. “M-me?”

“Come,” I said.

He hesitated.

“Do not make me ask again,” I said.

His throat bopped, but he obeyed and approached.

The silence in the room pressed against my ears, and I felt Adrian’s gaze growing fiercer as the human approached me.

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing.

“Dance with me,” I said.

“Your Majesty, I really must de—”

“It was not a question,” I said.

I did not think it was possible for him to grow any paler, but he did. I lifted my hand for him to take.

“You may touch me,” I said and happened to glance at Adrian, who looked murderous. I refrained from smiling, but it was more than a pleasure to stroke his fury.

The man’s hand was cold and clammy as he took my own.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Lothian,” he said.

“Lothian,” I repeated his name. “Do not tremble. It is embarrassing.”

“Apologies, my queen. It’s just that I had not planned on losing my balls tonight.”

I laughed. “Your balls have my protection, Lothian. Now, at least act like you enjoy my presence.”

The music began—a painfully boring song that made my dance with Lothian tedious. It was punishment, I was certain, for disobeying rules, so instead, I tried to focus on the mortal at arm’s length.

“What do you do, Lothian?” I asked, determined to enjoy my time enraging Adrian.

“Your Majesty?” he asked, confused.

“Your trade. What is your job here?”

“I am a librarian,” he said.

“A librarian.” I smiled. I thought he would say he was a vassal. “Will you take me on a tour?”

“Of course,” he said, suddenly sounding much more confident. “Any particular area of interest?”

“Oh, all of it. I am a voracious reader.”

“I will do my very best to please you,” he said, grinning, and I decided that I very much liked excitable Lothian.

“Very good. Let’s start this week,” I said, unsure of what Adrian might have planned for me. “I am eager to learn the history of my new home.”

As our song came to an end, Lothian bowed.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said. “You will not be disappointed!”

He spun and practically floated off the dance floor. Now that my dance was complete, I hoped to go in search of wine, or something to further aid in my enjoyment of the evening, but when I turned, my way was blocked by a large man. He had long, dark hair and a pointed beard. There was something about him that made me feel uneasy, and that only worsened when he smiled.

“Your Majesty,” he said as he bowed, extending his hand. “A dance?”

“I would rather have a drink,” I said and walked past him. If Nadia were here, she would lecture me.

A lady never declines a gentleman!

What is the point in being a princess if I cannot shun men?

The point is to set an example!

I had set an example, just not the one she wanted.

A hand landed on my shoulder. It startled me, and I jumped, turning to find that the dark-haired vampire had followed me.

“Do not touch me,” I said. Each word I uttered sounded like a threat.

The vampire chuckled. “Adrian has found himself a lively mortal,” he said, his eyes trailing my body. Again he said, “Dance with me.”

My eyes narrowed upon the man. His were glazed and distant, and I wondered what he had been consuming before arriving at this event.

“So you are one of those,” I said.

“One of what?” he asked.

“A man who does not listen,” I said.

His slick smile spread, and he took a step closer to me. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Noblesse Zakharov.”

“Well, Noblesse Zakharov, I don’t care who you are. I will not dance with you.”

I did not linger to hear his reaction, turning to leave, but Zakharov once again reached for me, his fingers digging into my arm as he jerked me around. This time, I drew my knife holstered at my wrist. I twisted the hilt in my hand and brought it down into the hollow of the man’s collarbone.

The only sound he made was a choked gurgle as he fell to his knees, blood oozing from his wound. Vampires might be able to heal themselves, but they still felt pain, and it was possible this was worse, given that I did not think Zakharov thought I would fight back. The room went quiet, and none moved as I stood opposite the vampire who had accosted me.

The tap of boots upon the marble floor interrupted the silence, and slowly, a path was made for Adrian. He seemed to tower over everyone, a force that commanded attention. He certainly had mine as he approached, his features a cool mask of indifference.

“He touched me,” I explained.

Adrian’s eyes left mine, falling to Zakharov, whose hand was around the hilt of my dagger, blood seeping from between his fingers. But just as he was able to pull it out, his eyes lifted toward Adrian.

“M-my lord,” he managed.

Adrian said nothing as he plucked the knife from his flesh, wiped it free of blood with a handkerchief he pulled from the inside of his jacket, and returned it to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, and he offered the softest smile before drawing a blade sheathed at his guard’s side and swung. No one spoke as Zakharov’s head rolled across the ballroom floor, his body left to fall against the marble with a wet thud.

Adrian returned the bloodied blade to his guard and then looked at me, offering his hand. Once I took it, he spoke, addressing the gathering.

“Your queen is a warrior first, a noble second. I suggest you keep that in mind if you decide to place your fate in her hands.” Then he looked at me. “And if, by chance, she spares you, I will not.”

I held his gaze and felt the promise of his words shudder through me.

“Clean this up,” he said and led me away from the body. Pausing at the center of the room, he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” I said. “What is a noblesse?”

“It is a title that means royal birth,” he said. “Zakharov has always been a problem. Now he is not.”

I looked to where he had lain, his body already cleared. Another vampire carried the head by its long, black hair toward the exit.

“Dance with me,” Adrian said.

I bowed my head, accepting his invitation. He smiled and lifted my hand to his mouth. His lips touched my knuckles, a soft caress that reminded me of the kisses he’d offered on our ride through Cel Ceredi to the Red Palace. Then he drew me close and began to move, his body a solid guide I followed effortlessly around the room.

“You are beautiful,” he said, his eyes lowered, lingering on my breasts.

“I thought you would disapprove,” I said, but I’d only thought that because Killian would have chided me for the amount of skin I was showing.

Adrian, though, seemed to like it.

“My feelings are far from disapproving,” he said, and as if to drive the point home, he drew me closer, the hard swell of his cock pressing into my stomach.

I held his gaze, a fire igniting in the pit of my stomach.

“You are not angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry?”

“Because I danced with Lothian,” I said. “When I was supposed to dance with you.”

“Hmm,” he said, understanding. “You are lucky I like him.”

“I promised to protect his balls,” I said.

“Suddenly, I like him less,” Adrian said.

“I am angry with you,” I said.

Adrian raised a brow. “As if I could not guess by your actions. Safira?”

“You said you would cease feeding from her.”

“I have,” he said.

There was a pause as we continued to dance, slow and controlled, the skirt of my dress swaying and tangling around my legs and Adrian’s.

“I had only told her a few moments before I entered the great hall. Poor timing, perhaps, but it is done. As you wished.”

I bristled. “Do not guilt me.”

“It is not my intention,” he said. “I would do anything you asked if it meant you might see me as more than a monster.”

I could not quite isolate how his words made me feel, but it was something akin to shock.

“So you danced with Lothian because of Safira?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

A cruel smile spread across his face. “I think you wanted to drive me mad.”

“Did it work?”

“It made me want to fuck you,” he said. “Right here in front of my kingdom.”

“How primal of you,” I said, though his words opened a chasm in the bottom of my stomach that burned hotter than any flame.

He did not deny it. “Primal, possessive,” he said. “It is in my nature.”

It was in my nature too. I could feel it every time I thought of Adrian’s vassal.

At least we could be honest with each other.

“You would do well to remember it,” he said.

“Or what?” I challenged.

Adrian kissed me.

There was nothing gentle about it. He grasped my head in both hands as he bent over me, parting my lips. I clung to him, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with my own, feeling both desperate and reckless. Our bodies were so close, our fingers digging into each other’s skin. I wanted him, to be stretched by him, filled with him, possessed by him, and I hoped he could hear every single thought.

Adrian growled and released my mouth, gleaming eyes meeting mine. But before he could fulfill my wish, my eyes slipped from him over his shoulder, to the doors where a man—a vampire—entered, flanked by two others. In his hand, he gripped the head of Zakharov.

Adrian turned to face the newcomers.

“I will have vengeance, King Adrian, for the death of my son.”

I tried not to react to the presence of the newcomer, but my heart was racing, and I gripped Adrian’s arm a little tighter. He held me close, a hand on my waist, lips still gleaming from our kiss. As I looked up at him, he seemed unconcerned.

“Your son accosted my wife, your queen, Noblesse Gesalac,” he said. “And for that, he was punished. It is your choice to kill him now. Burn him or not, it is for you to decide.”

“That is no choice at all,” Gesalac snapped.

It wasn’t. If vampire bodies were not burned after decapitation, they would reanimate, not as they were before but as revenants—essentially vampires with no humanity. They attacked humans and animals alike, thirsting endlessly for blood. We had learned this at a young age during training, but it had never occurred to me that vampires also practiced this, mostly because I had never imagined they had any sort of justice system.

“Then you have your answer,” Adrian said.

Gesalac threw his son’s head at our feet. It rolled, landing with his half-opened eyes facing me.

“You risk my allegiance for a woman—a mortal one at that?”

“Careful of your words, Noblesse,” Adrian said. “No one is irreplaceable.”

“That also goes for you, my king,” Gesalac replied.

There was a moment of tense silence when I wasn’t sure Gesalac would leave, but he bowed his head and left with his men.

The celebration resumed, and I got the feeling that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence. I lifted my dress to keep the hem out of the blood draining from Zakharov’s head and used my foot to roll it away, unnerved by how his eyes watched me.

Adrian stared at me, and I knew that look well enough. He was asking if I was okay, and I shrugged.

“It wouldn’t be a ball if I didn’t make enemies.”

Shortly after Gesalac’s departure, a vampire retrieved his son’s head and announced that his body was being burned in the courtyard if anyone wanted to watch. As the ballroom emptied, Daroc appeared, his expression a harsh mask. He approached us and bowed.

“Your Majesties,” he said. “I have heard from Gavriel.”

My heart raced.

“Has there been another attack?” I quickly asked, fear draining the blood from my face.

“Of sorts,” he said. “A group of your people attempted a coup. They stormed the castle but got no farther than the courtyard. Your father is safe, and no lives were lost.”

“A coup? Why, because my father surrendered to Adrian?”

“That,” he said, “and they believe the attack at Vaida was us.”

I was not so much surprised as disappointed, but I could not say that I blamed my people for their assumption. They had not seen the bodies; all they knew was that now a whole village had been wiped out and their remains burned—a practice against our customs. It looked like a cover-up.

I looked to Adrian as he asked, “What would you have me do? I could send guards for your father.”

“I think that will only make the situation worse,” I said.

“Perhaps, but if it means your father is safe, does it matter?”

It didn’t.

“Gavriel and his men are as good as ten of my father’s men,” I said, and it was becoming harder to trust those closest to him at all. At least I knew Adrian’s soldiers were beholden to me through our marriage. I cringed at the direction of my thoughts but had more than enough reason to think them.

Adrian grasped my chin, brushing his thumb across my lips. It wasn’t until then that I realized I’d been worrying it with my teeth.

“Just ask it of me,” he said.

Finally, I relented. “Send your best men,” I said. “And send more before he travels here for the coronation.”

“It will be done.”

And I believed him.

I had to.

Because I wasn’t certain I would survive if something happened to my father.

* * *

Violeta was waiting to help me undress.

She had taken the liberty of preparing another bath. I thanked her and dismissed her, wanting to be alone. She left a table nearby with soap, washcloths, and the jasmine oil. I added a few drops, hoping the smell would ease the ache that had formed at the forefront of my head where words and thoughts and emotions were building. I felt like I was on the precipice of breaking but not quite there. Something heavy had nestled within my chest, and a pressure had built behind my eyes that threatened tears, and yet I did not weep.

I lowered myself into the tub, rested my head against the edge, and closed my eyes.

A cool breeze roused me, and I found myself in a dark lake, but all around me were willows and trees with white flowers that smelled like the jasmine oil that was in my bathwater. The moonlight bathed my naked skin in silver, and the water was cool. Though I was no longer in my room, this place was familiar.

It wasn’t long until I felt the presence of another behind me, and I turned to find Adrian standing on the shore. He watched me, staring with a familiar hunger in his eyes. I sensed that something was different about him, though I did not know exactly what. It tugged at the edge of my mind, a memory too far to grasp.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he said.

“Looked?” I asked, raising a brow.

He smiled, and it was so beautiful, it stole my breath. I had never seen him smile like this, and I wanted to see it more. Still, the longer I looked, the more troubled I became. There was something different about his expression—something far more lighthearted. He did not have the sharpness to his face I had come to know well or the depth to his strange eyes.

He entered the water, fully clothed, and placed his hand upon my cheek.

“Yes,” he said, and his hand slid to my neck. “Right now, you are radiant.”

His lips crashed against mine, and I sighed into his mouth. My arms slid around his waist, and I sank against him, comforted by his presence.

“I’ve missed you,” I found myself saying as his mouth left mine to kiss along my neck. “You were gone so long.”

I did not understand the words pouring from my mouth or their context, but I spoke them and I felt them so harshly, it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Never again.”

But I knew that was a lie. Still, I hoped.

I drew away, my naked flesh pressed against his clothed body. I could not wait to feel him against me, skin to skin. To have him inside me, and yet I could not shake this strange fear that someone might catch us here together. It gripped my heart and threaded along my spine.

“Promise,” I said—begged.

Adrian’s brows knitted together, his hands sliding to my face once more. “Did something happen in my absence?”

Tears pricked my eyes at his question, and to hide them, I kissed him. “No,” I whispered against his mouth and my hands drifted down to pull his sex free from his trousers. As he lifted me into his arms, I spoke. “Just promise me…”

But before I could even finish my sentence, he answered.

“I promise,” he said as his flesh parted mine and he slid inside me.

I gasped and opened my eyes as I was lifted from the water. Adrian’s face hovered over mine. For a moment, I thought I was still in the lake, but the firelight reflected off his face, harsher in this light than it had been beneath the moon.

I had been dreaming.

“You will catch your death,” he said, the notes of his voice rumbling in my chest.

“I was just tired,” I whispered.

I couldn’t stop looking at him and thinking about how different he was in my dream. That Adrian had looked so young, so carefree, so in love. The Adrian who held me now carried his age within his eyes, which were burdened by heartbreak, and I wondered if that was what had made this man a monster.

“You are soaked,” I said.

“Is that your way of asking me to disrobe?”

“It would be warmer,” I replied, and he settled me upon the bed before straightening. My body grew heated under his gaze, my nipples taut. I felt very aware of my own emptiness, of the wetness gathering between my thighs.

Adrian discarded his clothing. His movements were graceful, and as each part of his body became exposed to the light, my hunger grew.

I swallowed thickly. “Thank you for protecting my father,” I said.

“I made a promise,” he said simply.

“Have you always kept your promises?” I asked. I was curious about his response, given my dream.

The last piece of his clothing fell to the ground, and he stood naked beside the bed, meeting my gaze as he answered.

“No.”

His hands sank into the mattress on either side of my face as he straddled my body, leaning to press a soft kiss to my lips. There was an ease and comfortability to his movements, as if we had been lovers for a lifetime.

He drew back and spoke, low and rough. “But for you, I will do anything.”

It was the second time he had spoken like this tonight.

My brows drew together as I studied him. The crown of his cock touched my stomach, and the feel of him cradled between our bodies made me feel hollow inside. I was restless, and as much as I wanted to draw him inside me then, I resisted. “But I am your enemy.”

His white-blue eyes were shadowed as he searched my face, fingers brushing a few strands of hair from my cheek.

“You were never my enemy,” he replied and pressed his lips to mine. My breath caught in my throat, and I sighed into his mouth as I opened for him, my legs rising to frame his body. My fingers dug into his back so that his hard chest was pressed into mine, and when his tongue slipped past my lips, tangling with my own, I arched into him. There was a spice to the sweetness of his mouth that told me he had drunk wine tonight. I usually did not enjoy the taste, but this I wanted to siphon. His strokes were slow, savoring, even as he left to kiss my jaw, my neck, and between my breasts. He settled back on his heels and pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee, another higher up, another against my hip, and I let my breath out in a rush, my fingers twining into the sheets. It was sheer anticipation, and he let it build as he riddled my skin with kisses.

I twisted beneath him, desperate to feel the release that would come with his mouth on my swollen clit and his fingers deep inside me. Instead, his hands came down upon my legs, pressing my knees into the bed. The open air teased my heat, and I felt manic and frustrated as he lingered there, so close to my center.

Then his eyes fell to the nest of curls at the apex of my thighs.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said, and he dipped his head to lick my clit. My head rolled back as he caressed it again before dipping into my slick heat.

“Yes,” I breathed, and Adrian chuckled, increasing the pressure of his tongue. When he added his fingers, I vaulted off the bed, my shoulders pressed into the mattress, my hips surging forward into his thrusting fingers. Adrian moaned at my reaction, and his mouth closed over my sensitive nerves, sucking and teasing until the sounds coming out of my mouth were no longer within my control. I had given myself over to him, a weapon to be wielded. He kept pressure on me, kept driving inside, building me up and up and up, and I climbed with him, my insides humming and twining, my muscles clenching and knotting, and when the release hit, I screamed with the rush of it. It was like he had fed off my essence, but somehow, I was better for it. Brighter.

I was still catching my breath as he climbed back up my body and kissed me hard on the mouth. And though I felt completely weightless, I bent toward him, bound to his direction. He shifted behind me, his chest to my back. His hand drifted behind my knee, and as he opened me, he slid inside. One of his arms cradled my head, the other gripped my leg, and as he began to move in slow, sensuous strokes, I held his gaze. I couldn’t look away. I studied every part of his face—the way his hair clung to the perspiration on his cheek, the way the blue of his irises seemed to consume more of the white while he was inside me, the way his teeth clenched with each deepening thrust.

Then Adrian kissed me again.

A bruising kiss that kept going as he moved, and I was left feeling the effects of something I did not understand. A heavy wave of emotion built inside me, burning my eyes, and I realized that we had crossed a line into something that felt too close to lovemaking. I had been too caught up in this moment, in the feelings Adrian drew to the surface of my skin, to stop it.

We couldn’t have this. We were enemies. We were supposed to be angry, our intimacy a fight, a battle won, or a body conquered. This…this was tenderness. This was sweet and lush and…intense.

I froze at the thought, and Adrian did too. One of his hands cupped my jaw, the other splayed across my stomach.

“Isolde?”

I never thought I would beg to be called Sparrow, but to have him speak my name, thick with lust and an undercurrent of affection…it frightened me.

I couldn’t do this. I was already a traitor to my people. I would be nothing…nothing if I let this progress.

“Stop,” I said and pushed away from him.

All at once, he let me go, and I climbed out of bed, needing to put distance between us. I crossed the room and slipped into a robe Violeta had left.

“Did I do something wrong?” Adrian asked.

“You should leave,” I said. I kept my back to him. I couldn’t look at him, or he would see the tears gathering in my eyes—tears that were attached to emotions I couldn’t explain.

There was a long pause, and then the bed creaked as he stood and dressed.

“At least tell me,” he said before he departed. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

I shouldn’t have looked at him then, but it was the desperation in his voice that caught me off guard, and no matter how chaotic I was feeling right now, I couldn’t let him think he had harmed me.

Even as I met his gaze, a thickness gathered in my throat, and I could not clear it before I spoke.

“No.”

After I answered, he looked away. I thought that perhaps it was shame that turned his head.

He bowed.

“Good night, Queen Isolde.”

With those words, I had gotten what I wanted—a wedge driven between us—and as he closed the door to my room, I crashed to the floor.