Seventeen

Seventeen

If Lothian said anything after that, I did not hear it.

I felt a surge of adrenaline, and at the same time, I felt sick.

And to think King Gheroghe had been here. He’d attempted to barter with Adrian for immortality—with the promise of my people. I could have killed him then. I could have liberated my people.

My body shook with rage.

Had Adrian known? Had he said nothing?

I turned from Lothian, tore open the door, and ran for Adrian’s quarters.

“Out of my way!” I commanded as I raced down the halls, packed with servants, vampires, and their vassals.

I could not imagine how I looked, but I felt wild and angry, and when I arrived at Adrian’s door, I threw them open, only to find Safira in his bed—one I had yet to occupy.

She was sitting up, naked and bent so that her breasts were peaked. With most of her weight on one arm, she trailed the other along her raised leg. Her golden hair, unbound, teased her arm in gentle waves.

Obviously, she expected another visitor.

“Where is my husband?” I demanded, my fury rocketing.

She flinched but swallowed her fear. “Shouldn’t you know? You are his wife,” Safira retorted.

My hands clenched at my sides, and I wished I’d brought my knife. Still, even as I took a step toward her, she shrank back against the headboard, and I felt a small bit of satisfaction knowing she was afraid of me.

“I am his wife, which begs the question—why are you in his bed?”

It was another slap in the face—waking alone after being nearly killed, and now this? If he truly knew about my mother’s people, I would never forgive him.

She laughed, a haughty sound that made me want to shatter her teeth.

“I have warmed it for three nights,” she replied smugly, as if it were gossip to spread.

There was a part of me that did not believe her because I wanted to believe Adrian. I wanted to trust him. Then again, I was no fool. There were few men who would decline what Safira offered, but all I cared about was that my husband had.

“Don’t take it personally, my queen. It would be impossible for one woman to fulfill every one of Adrian’s desires. Luckily, many of us are up for the challenge.”

“You grossly underestimate me, Safira. Worse, though, is that you have made Adrian into something he isn’t.”

“And what is that?”

“A god,” I replied and left.

I had one guess as to where Adrian might be, and that was with his advisors, likely discussing Ravena’s successful corruption of Ciro. I was sure to be an unwelcome presence among the noblesse. Only, I did not care. I flew down the corridors, my feet carrying me as if they were not my own, and burst through the doors of Adrian’s council chamber.

He stood at the head of his round table with Daroc on his right, surrounded by what remained of his noblesse. My gaze caught and held Adrian’s, and I took two more steps into the room.

“Leave. I wish to speak to my husband.”

There was a beat of silence. No one moved, and I thought for a second I would have to repeat myself, or worse, Adrian would not support me in my interruption of whatever this was and force me to leave—a decision that would not bode well for him. But then the room cleared. I held Adrian’s gaze as each noblesse passed. Even Daroc’s—which was pointed and heavy—did not faze me.

Finally, the door closed behind me.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

I did not even know where to begin.

“Did you know my mother’s people were enslaved by King Gheroghe?” I could barely finish the sentence; I was in so much distress. “Those are my aunts and uncles…maybe even my grandparents.”

All this time, I’d been left to wonder if they cared about my mother, if they cared that I even existed, but it was possible they did not even know I lived or that my mother had died.

“Isolde—”

“Did you know?” My scream was so loud, my voice went hoarse.

His silence spoke volumes.

“You bastard!” I said, clenching my jaw so hard, my teeth hurt. Tears blurred my vision.

“What would you have me do?” he countered.

“Free them!” I yelled. “Kill King Gheroghe. Do you not plan to conquer Vela anyway?”

“It is on the list, Isolde, but it is not the priority.”

I flinched. “Are you saying I am not your priority?”

“I never said that.” He spoke with such reverence, my blood ran cold. “I care about you, far more than you will ever understand, but I can only do so much. I only have so many men. Not to mention I’m concerned about the crimson mist attacking our people.”

His words took most of the fight out of me. Still, I rallied.

“Recruit more men,” I said.

He tilted his head and his lips twitched. “Are you telling me to turn more people?”

I swallowed hard. I was forgoing all my values. Tonight, I’d asked Adrian to attack a kingdom of the Nine Houses, and I’d asked him to turn mortals into vampires. I’d fallen so low, and I didn’t care.

“I understand your anger,” he said. “I am not happy with King Gheroghe either. Even if he had something I valued, I would not offer him immortality for his crimes. His end will come, and it will be by your hand…if you are willing to act as a queen.”

“And how does a queen act?” I asked, fury still coursing through me.

“Everything must be strategic, and nothing can be personal until victory is near. Do you understand?”

He was telling me we had to plan. He was telling me I had to wait to free my mother’s people—my people. Could I handle the guilt of my own freedom? Of my own privilege?

“Everyone will want your sacrifice, Isolde. Be mindful who gets it.”

“Who gets yours?”

“Do you really need to ask?” he said, his voice quiet.

I did need to ask, because he’d left me to wake up alone, because when I’d gone in search of him, I’d found Safira instead.

“I just came from your room,” I said, and Adrian’s brows rose, more curious than alarmed.

“And what were you doing there?”

“Looking for you,” I answered. “But do you know what I found instead?” I could not even wait for him to answer, I was so angry all over again. “Safira. Naked. In your bed. She claims to have been there the last three nights.”

Adrian stiffened. “And you believe this?”

“You do not get to ask me what I believe or do not believe at this point, Your Majesty. You get to explain. Now.”

Asking for an explanation did not mean I did not trust him, but I deserved one all the same. Especially considering all he’d kept from me. He stared at me for a long moment, and I wondered if he was reading my mind. Were my emotions strong enough? Were they too chaotic for him to decide what to focus on? After a moment, he moved from behind the table, and on his way past me, he said, “I will do more than explain.”

He strolled out of the council room, shoving the doors open with a loud bang. I followed, unflinching, noting his stiff shoulders and clenched hands.

“Daroc, I require your assistance,” he said without halting his stride. His second-in-command had waited outside the room, and I wondered if he’d been eavesdropping. He scrambled after us, glancing at me.

Adrian moved so quick, I could barely keep up. His people—those I’d had to command to get out of my way earlier—moved to the side for him, and I did not know if it was out of fear or respect. Either way, it stung in a way that made me want to incinerate this whole castle.

As we approached his chambers, Adrian ordered Daroc to remain stationed outside while he flung open the doors.

“Get up!” he snapped as he entered. I followed behind him and watched as Safira scrambled to her feet, dragging Adrian’s sheet with her as she held it to her chest.

“My lord—I only thought—”

“Silence,” he commanded, and her mouth shut, her face paled.

Adrian turned to me then and held out his hand. It took me only a second to accept.

“I’ve been informed that you are suggesting I’ve been disloyal to my wife,” Adrian said.

Safira gave a nervous laugh. “Her Majesty misunderstood. I was only speaking of our past—”

I stiffened, angered by her suggestion that this was just a misunderstanding. But Adrian squeezed my hand, and the movement was strangely reassuring. It told me he believed me. A little of my anger receded.

“Are you saying my wife is a liar?” Adrian asked. Even I was unsettled by the tone of his voice.

Safira’s eyes widened.

“Of course not, Your Majesty. I am saying this has all really been greatly exaggerated.”

“I see. If that is the case, you will think my punishment is most severe. Daroc,” Adrian called, and the commander entered. “Escort Safira to the dungeons.”

Safira backed away, bumping into the wall as Daroc approached.

“Adrian, please!” she begged.

“It’s only a short while. Why not one day for every night you claimed to sleep with me?”

Daroc yanked the sheet from her hands and grasped her upper arm, dragging her from the room, naked.

“I did not mean any harm,” she said, struggling against Daroc’s hold. “I beg you.” Neither one of us spoke as she was taken, the doors closing on her final, desperate cry. “You can’t do this!”

Adrian turned toward me. “Are you reassured by my fidelity?” he asked.

A blush warmed my cheeks. I felt silly for needing this comfort and yet more confident than I’d ever been in his loyalty to me.

“I am sorry that I needed it,” I said. “I suppose that’s another way I am not acting as a queen, but it seems that everyone in this castle wishes to remind me I was not your first and not sufficient enough to be your last.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Adrian said, and he tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “I did not intend for you to wake alone.”

I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. “It was selfish,” I said. “Of course, you have more important—”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he said and brushed his thumb along my lips, sending a shiver of arousal through me. We had been distant for four days, and the whole time, I’d been desperate for him. I only let myself fully acknowledge it now—the way I had wanted him, his body, his reassurance, his mind.

He stared at me with a soft admiration in his eyes. “Need something, Sparrow?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Can you not read minds?” I asked quietly.

“That’s not how this works,” he said and backed away, sitting in the chair near his desk.

I wanted to chase his warmth, but I stayed where I was, demanding, “What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Take what you want.”

My body literally quaked. I clenched and unclenched my fists.

“I can’t fuck you fully clothed.”

“Debatable,” he said, and a cool smile spread across his lips.

“Sometimes I really do hate you,” I said.

“Only sometimes?” he asked, voice quiet, and then he tilted his head to the side. “And right now? Do you hate me?”

I slipped out of my robe and pulled my shift over my head, standing naked before him. His eyes gleamed, but he did not move to touch me.

“No,” I answered.

My hands came down upon his shoulders, and I straddled him, taking his mouth against mine. My body was suddenly flooded with feeling. It was a rush that filled every vein and every nerve. My hands wound into his hair, and I ground against his length, buried beneath layers of clothing.

“A truth from me,” he said against my lips. “I missed you.”

His fingers pressed into my hips. He sat forward, one hand moving between us to capture my breast while his lips left mine to trail my jaw, my throat, and then closed over my nipple. I inhaled between my teeth and grasped his face, holding him there as he lavished my skin. It felt good to be touched—better by him.

I pushed his vest from his shoulders and yanked on his overcoat.

“Take this off!” I demanded, and he chuckled.

“A moment, Sparrow,” he said, and I shifted off him. He stood, and I helped him undress, unlacing his pants as he shed his overcoat and tunic. Once his cock sprang free, I grasped it, uncaring that he had yet to completely shed his leggings. He groaned and yanked me forward, tongue devouring as I coaxed beads of come from the tip of his cock with my fist until I pulled away and knelt on the ground.

I held his gaze as I tasted him, his flesh soft and salty beneath my tongue. Before my mouth could close over him, he sat, his hands braced on the arms of his chair.

“I think about your mouth a lot,” he said. “The things you say and what you do with it.”

“Very few praise me for what I say,” I said.

“Perhaps they do not value the truth.” He leaned forward just a little, his hand tangling in my hair. “So tell me a truth now—you fear what you feel when you are with me.”

I stared at him.

“You first,” I whispered.

He smiled. “I have never been afraid of what I feel for you.”

I took him into my mouth. It was the only kind of answer I was willing to give at the moment, and Adrian let me. I touched every part of him, tongue sliding beneath the crown of his cock and the veins running down the shaft. My fingers teased his balls, heavy with need. I kept my pace, a slow and steady build, even as he groaned and growled over me. When he came, I kept him there a moment longer, letting the pressure of my lips glide against him until he slipped from my mouth.

He stared at me as I sat between his parted knees, my lips wet from his release.

“Can you handle me?” I asked.

He smiled. “Sparrow, I will take whatever you give.”

I rose to my feet and turned, giving Adrian my back, and bent across his desk. He seemed to understand my wordless invitation as his hand parted my flesh, his fingers diving into the silken skin that had grown warm and wet while I’d feasted upon him. The feel of him there was a kind of release all on its own, and I gave a guttural cry. My hands sought his flesh and landed on one of his thighs. Adrian did not seem to mind, spending a few more moments inside me before he pulled his fingers out and sat, guiding me down upon his cock. He was engorged, and as he slid inside, I felt every rise and dip of his shaft.

“Yes,” he hissed, shifting me closer to him, sealing my back to his chest as I began to move. His hands gave attention to my breasts, squeezing and kneading. It wasn’t until he shifted to tease my clit that I needed to anchor myself again, moving my legs on either side of his. It gave me greater purchase, and I rocked harder and faster, turning my head toward his. Our mouths collided in a messy, hard kiss. Our bodies were slick, and there was a heat between us that warmed my cheeks and exploded in the pit of my stomach. When I could no longer move, Adrian gathered me into his arms and deposited me on the bed. He hovered over me, breathing hard, pieces of his long, blond hair sticking together in sweaty clumps.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“More than,” I replied, quiet and sated.

He stared down at me, smoothing my hair from my face.

“Just when I think you could not get any more beautiful.”

It seemed that he had more to say, but he remained quiet, only tracing my face lightly with his fingertip.

He had positioned us in the same manner the night I’d asked him to leave—when I’d felt too close to him and had wanted distance. My legs were bent, his length pressed into my bottom. I might have let him have this position, but tonight, I felt like being in control.

I placed my hands upon his forearms and guided him to his back, pinning him beneath me. I was tired, but I liked the feel of him under me, liked the way my hands splayed across his chest.

“What do you want, wife?” Adrian asked, staring up at me with heat in his eyes.

“The women of your court took pleasure in telling me how you fuck,” I said, and I reached between us for his cock, guiding it to my heat. “As if I did not know.” I impaled myself upon him, tilting my head back until I was completely filled. Only then did I meet his gaze, and as I spoke, I bent to press a kiss to his chest. “The next time they look at you, I want them to see your lust for me in your eyes.”

We moved together until I could not move at all, until all I could do was cling to Adrian as he moved for both of us. We stared at each other, our breaths mingling until he closed the space between us and kissed me—deep and bruising and languid. When he pulled away, he whispered, breathless, “Come for me.”

His thrusts grew harder, rougher, and they took me over the edge. Not long after, he followed.

We lay together in silence for a long while before Adrian spoke. “I feared I had truly hurt you,” he said.

He did not need to give any more details. I already knew what he meant—the night I’d asked him to leave my room without explanation.

“No,” I said, and nothing more. I trailed my fingers along his chest, over raised scars that nipped at his sides.

“Lothian tells me you have enjoyed the library,” he said.

“Yes.”

“What have you learned?”

“Things that scare me,” I said.

“Do you mean that you have learned the truth?” he asked.

I spent a few moments tracing his skin and then looked at him, my chin resting on my hands. “Lothian and Zann introduced me to letters and journals from people who had lived during Dragos’s reign. I did not know.”

There was something hopeful in Adrian’s eyes as he stared at me, and he lifted his hand to brush his thumb against my cheek.

“You know now,” he said.

“Ravena does not make it easy to trust magic,” I said and paused. “I saw her in the woods.”

Beneath me, Adrian stiffened. “What did she say?”

“Nonsense.” Even now, I tried to recall her words, but they escaped me. I’d been too focused on planning how I was going to kill her for any of them to stick. “What did you do to her?”

“I only took what she stole from me,” he said.

“And what was that?”

“A future.”

I had more questions and more things to tell Adrian, like how I’d also seen Ravena in the window at Sadovea and in the hall of mirrors, but a knock at the door interrupted us.

“Not now,” Adrian called.

“Your Majesty, it’s urgent,” Daroc said from the other side of the door.

We exchanged a look, and I pushed off him, dragging the blanket up to my chest.

“Enter.”

There was a click as the door opened, and Daroc walked into view. His face remained perfectly stoic as he spoke. “We’ve had another attack,” he said. “At Cel Cera.”