Eighteen

Eighteen

Dread tore my chest in two—I had heard of Cel Cera before. It was the home of Ana’s vassal.

“Adrian,” I said. “Isla was coming back from there.”

Adrian looked to Daroc. “Were there any survivors?”

“Not everyone is accounted for,” he answered, but that was not a promising sign. It might mean they lived but that they were possessed and were now wandering the woods in search of prey. “Sorin is still searching.”

I swallowed hard.

“Send more soldiers,” Adrian said. “But only those who fly. They have a better chance of escaping the mist.”

I looked at him, surprised. “How many can fly?”

He shrugged. “About thirty or so.”

“Are they all falcons?”

“No,” he said.

I now wondered just how many times I’d seen a hawk or bat circling in the sky only for it to be a vampire.

“And if we locate anyone infected?” Daroc asked.

“They must be killed,” Adrian said.

I felt sick, but I knew Adrian was right. Daroc bowed and left.

“Someone must tell Ana,” I said once we were alone.

“I will,” Adrian volunteered.

“Let me go with you.”

Adrian did not protest, and we rose and dressed quickly. I had never been to Ana’s quarters before, but she resided in the upper level of the west tower, and when we knocked on her door, she answered with a smile that dropped instantly.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, already guessing why we’d come.

It was Adrian who caught her as she collapsed.

“Ana,” he said, explaining the attack and smoothing her hair. Finally, he added, “She may yet live.”

And as she sobbed in his arms, she begged. “Do not kill her, Adrian, please.”

* * *

“You look stunning,” Vesna said, drawing my attention from the mirror as Violeta finished lacing my gown for tonight’s feast, the final night of the Burning Rites. It reminded me of water, twining waves of white and silver that trailed down my body and dragged the floor. The sleeves were long, but the neckline fell off the shoulder, adorned with icy, lace flowers that matched the floral crown atop my head. My hair was pulled to one side, trailing over my shoulder in thick waves. A pair of silvery earrings dangled from my ears, and I stared at them now, thinking of Ana.

We had spent the remainder of the night with her. She had never stopped crying, never stopped asking Adrian not to kill Isla.

If she is possessed, let me keep her. I will find a cure.

And he would answer, She may yet live, Ana.

We had left her to sleep and with no news about her lover.

Even now, my eyes burned with her hurt.

As I had watched her, I realized she was living my fear—losing the ones I loved most. Now, I considered how safe my father would be on his journey from Lara here to the Red Palace for my coronation. Adrian had dispatched more guards—but that meant the possibility of more infected vampires.

“Isolde?” Violeta called my name, and I looked at her.

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you were all right,” she said. “You look a little…sad.”

I cleared my throat and swallowed the tears that had built there. “I am well, thank you.”

She did not believe me, but it did not matter. There was nothing to be done about my fear.

“We should go,” she said. “We will be late.”

But as she rose to her feet, there was a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting a visitor?” Vesna asked.

I shook my head, but then the door opened, and Adrian filled the doorway, a dark shadow that cut through the firelight. Our contrasts were not lost on me. He embodied everything I’d imagined the Blood King to be—a looming darkness, both beautiful and dreadful. I stared at him, and my chest expanded, full of a type of anxiety I did not want to admit. It was the anticipation of his touch, of the words he would whisper in my ear later when we were alone.

“My king,” Violeta and Vesna said in unison.

“I wanted a moment with my queen,” he said.

“Of course,” Violeta said. “We were just leaving.”

She reached for Vesna’s arm, looping it through her own as they left, and I couldn’t help smiling at how comfortable the woman had grown in her time as my lady-in-waiting.

Adrian’s eyes darkened as the door closed.

“Sparrow,” he said, his voice warming the very bottom of my stomach. He took my hand in his and brushed his lips along my fingers. “You look beautiful.”

“You outdid yourself on the gowns,” I said. “I have never had such beautiful pieces.”

“I only wish to spoil you,” he said. “Though you look beautiful in any form—covered in blood or writhing beneath me.”

I hated blushing, and here, once again, I was. I swallowed thickly. “How is Ana?”

Adrian’s expression changed, growing serious. “Unwell,” he said. “But she will be in attendance tonight. She needs the distraction.”

My chest tightened.

“Violeta said we were running late. If we linger here too long, we will be very late.”

Adrian raised a brow. “Are you eager to be rid of me, my queen?”

“N-no. I mean…” I stumbled across my words, irritated by how flustered I felt. It was made worse by how Adrian smiled at me—kind and gentle. It made his eyes crinkle at the sides, and I felt like I’d been knocked in the chest. I cleared my throat. “You wanted a moment with me?”

“I want you for lifetimes,” he said, brushing his knuckles along my cheek. “But I shall be content with now.”

I held my breath until he dropped his hand and stepped away. “I want to show you something. Will you come?”

“Of course,” I said and followed him out of my room, into the corridor. He took my hand, lacing our fingers. It was different from how we usually walked, and part of me worried that if anyone from home saw this—if my father witnessed us—he would be so disappointed.

Adrian took me into the east wing. It was the tallest part of the castle and happened to also be where the library was located, but we passed those doors, heading down darkened hallways with gilded accents, up flights of stairs until we came to the roof.

Atop the castle, the wind gusted around me. We were up so high, I felt as though I could reach out and touch the clouds, which were rimmed in a red light, casting the whole of Revekka in a strange, crimson-tinged darkness that was both beautiful and haunting. From here, the horizon seemed to stretch for miles in all directions—beyond Cel Ceredi and the Starless Forest to the Golden Sea.

“To the edge,” he said, and I hesitated. I wasn’t completely sure why, perhaps because there was no rail to hold on to against the wind. Adrian looked down at me and frowned. “I won’t let you fall.”

I wondered if he took my wavering as a sign that I did not trust him.

But that brought up another thought that was far more disconcerting to me. When had I grown to trust Adrian Aleksandr Vasiliev?

I gripped his arm as we neared the edge, and I looked down over our kingdom, where hundreds of fires burned across the land. I had no idea there were so many. It looked so ominous, as if we were on the cusp of battle and the fires were a mark of how outnumbered we truly were.

“The night High Coven was murdered, the world looked just like this,” Adrian said.

I looked at him as he watched the flames consume the night. His eyes looked black, his face harsh. He seemed so cold, the complete opposite of how he had appeared in my room earlier. Whatever he was thinking about had changed him.

“Why do you do this?” I whispered.

“What?”

“Torture yourself with whatever you are reliving while watching this. Adrian…”

“You asked before what motivates me to conquer the world,” he said and looked at me. “It’s this. Two hundred years ago on this night, I lost everything.”

He gave me nothing else, but I understood it all the same. Whatever had happened the night of the Burning had led to his conquest of my home. Normally, I would ask for more, but even I did not wish for him to continue to experience this—whatever this was. I only knew it was horrifying based on what Lothian and Zann had shared.

“Adrian,” I said and tugged on his hand, guiding him away from the ledge. Inside, the stairwell was just as dark, and before we could descend, he stopped me and pinned me against the wall. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what he intended to do, but then he rested his forehead against mine.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

At least that was what I thought I heard, but those words did not make any sense. I was right here. I did not ask him to repeat himself, and we did not speak as we descended stair after stair.

As we entered the great hall, it was to a round of applause, and despite the sound of approval, I could not help feeling that it was not for my benefit. The crowd stared back, full of noblesse and their vassals, guards and palace staff. They were dressed in far finer attire than I’d ever seen them. The women were in satin, silk, and velvet, trimmed in lace and pearls, ribbons and rosettes. The men wore high collars and ruffles, gloves and gold, and they all looked back at me with a mix of approval, longing, and pure, unveiled hatred. I let all of them see me—met each one of their gazes: from Sorin, Lothian, and Zann, to Gesalac, Julian, and Lady Bella.

“Preening, my queen?” Adrian asked, and he looked down at me, a smile touching his lips.

“Are you chiding me?” I asked.

“No, by all means, continue.”

He pressed his lips to my temple and then led me to the high table and where Ana and Daroc stood, waiting for us to join before they were seated.

When I saw Ana, I took her hand. “How are you?” I asked, knowing it was a horrible question, knowing there was only one answer.

“Afraid,” she said and gave a shuddering breath. Her eyes flicked to Adrian and then back to me. I knew what she wanted—to beg for Isla’s life again in hopes that she could find a cure, and I knew what Adrian would say: She may yet live.

I hoped, for Ana’s sake, she did.

As we sat, I took in the amount of food on the table—dried meats and bread, fruit and cheese. I looked at Adrian questioningly, wondering why there was so much.

“It is for you and the vassals,” he said and reached for a carafe. “Wine?”

He poured some into my goblet, and I took it, enjoying the taste on my tongue—a little sweet, mostly bitter. I sipped again and set the cup aside, watching the crowd descend into the heady madness of music and dance and feeding. The doors to the great hall and the front of the castle were open, and I could see into the courtyard where a fire blazed and more people danced. This was a merry contrast to how I’d felt high upon the castle with Adrian, and I thought it strange that this could be both a day of mourning for so many and a day of celebration for the same.

The music reached a crescendo suddenly and dove into a haunting melody. A line of women dressed in black and veiled cut through the crowd. I sat up straighter, a little alarmed.

“What is happening?”

“It is a mourning dance,” Ana said. “There are thirteen women, one for each member of High Coven.”

The crowd parted, and the women branched off in a circle. Hand in hand, they pushed and pulled upon one another, bodies undulating. One of the women spun into the center of the circle. She danced wildly, beautifully, and when she spun out of the middle, another woman took her place.

I watched, transfixed.

They moved like long shadows, like smoke into the sky, twisting, twining, twirling, their movements attuned to the violence of the music. I had never seen anything like it. I loved it and I also hated it—the way it reached into my chest with claws and pulled all my emotions to the surface. I felt so many things all at once: confusion and shame and sadness. When it was over, the sudden cheers startled me, and I was slow to rise to my feet with the others.

Adrian looked down at me, and he reached out a hand, trailing his fingers over the high part of my cheek.

“Would you dance with me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He took my hand, holding it aloft as we made our way to the floor, drawing me against him and guiding us in smooth circles. I held his gaze, my body and brain focused on the feel of him moving with me.

“You enjoyed the performance?” he asked.

“Yes.”

I maintained his gaze as he guided me into a spin, and when I came back to him, he held me tighter than before. I’d never imagined dancing with him like this or feeling the way I did now—comforted and safe. And as I looked into his eyes, I recalled a few of the words Ravena had spoken.

Tell me how conflicted you are between the love you have for your father and the love you have for Adrian.

I would not call this love, but it was true my feelings had grown far more complicated. And in six days’ time, my father would bear witness to it.

Suddenly, I felt sick.

We finished the dance in silence and to great applause, and as we returned to our seats, I took a long drink from my goblet. As the liquid hit my tongue, I knew the bitterness was wrong. I spit the contents out, but it was already too late—whatever was in my cup had taken effect. My head spun, my throat felt tight, and my stomach knotted.

“Isolde?”

I heard Adrian say my name, but I could not focus, and then I was falling.

“Isolde!”

He gripped my arm and jerked me to him. My head fell into the crook of his arm. I could not hold it up, and as his face came into view, the only thing I could focus on was the fierceness of his eyes as he spoke my name.

“Poison,” I managed to gasp as his face began to mutate. The whole world was melting. I was too.

“No, no, no,” I heard him say, and I thought that he had lowered me to the ground, but I could not be certain because I could not see. “Isolde? Isolde!”

Then Adrian’s voice echoed suddenly—a firm, frantic sound. “Daroc! Lock the doors! No one leaves until we discover who poisoned the queen.”

I was awake long enough to feel the air swirl around me. It seemed to thicken and darken, like tendrils of smoke, and out of the darkness, once again came Adrian’s voice. “Don’t leave me.”

* * *

It was so hot.

Scorching.

Sweat pooled on every dip of my skin, in every crease. I thrashed, suffocated by it, by the air, heavy with heat.

Hush, my sweet.

A cold hand touched my forehead.

Adrian.

Hold on to me. I will carry you through.

I woke, drenched, my vision blurry. I turned my head and found Adrian watching me.

For a moment, I thought he was angry with me. I’d never seen his face carved quite so severely. My brows lowered over my eyes, and I tried to speak his name, but my tongue felt swollen and sour in my mouth.

“Shh,” he said, leaning forward, and some of that harshness drained from his face. He placed a cool hand upon my forehead. “Drink this.”

He tilted my head, and I drank deeply.

“Not too much,” he said. “You will make yourself sick.”

I sank into the pillows again, my body weak. My eyes felt like lead and closed of their own accord.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I will be here when you wake.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The next time I opened my eyes, I stared back at Ana.

“You are awake,” she said, relief softening her features.

“About time,” I heard Sorin say.

“Careful, she might stab you,” said Isac.

“We are glad to have you back, my queen,” Miha said.

I blinked, attempting to clear my vision and get my bearings. I realized I’d been brought to Adrian’s room. Ana sat nearby while Sorin, Isac, and Miha stood apart near the doors as if guarding the entrance.

“Where is Adrian?” I asked.

“He will return shortly,” Ana interjected quickly. “Let me help you sit up.”

I rose as she stuffed pillows behind my back. I felt dizzy and nauseous, and I recalled how I’d gotten here—someone had poisoned my wine.

“Here, drink this,” Ana said, and I was shocked by my own hesitation. “It’s all right. Look.”

Ana sipped from the container, and when nothing happened, I nodded, and she placed the cup to my lips. It was only water, but as it hit my tongue, I found myself more aware of the metallic taste in my mouth and cringed.

“Was anyone else poisoned?”

“Only your glass,” said Sorin.

So I was the target. I was not surprised.

“We will know more soon, now that you are awake,” said Ana.

“How long have I been…”

“Three days,” Ana said and then she added, hesitantly, “No one’s left the banquet hall since Adrian brought you here. Everyone from guards to the noblesse have been locked inside.”

Three days?

“What?”

Just then, the door opened, and Adrian appeared, his eyes immediately finding mine. I could not place the expression on his face. It was a harrowing mix of anger and worry and relief, and as he strode toward me, I found myself sitting up higher, wishing to reach for him. Only he bent to me and pressed his lips to my forehead.

“My queen,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Like death,” I said.

Adrian frowned but said nothing, and I wondered what words he would say if he chose to speak at this very moment, because the pain and fear written upon his face shocked me.

“Adrian?” I whispered.

“Do you think you are well enough to stand?” he asked.

I frowned. “I…think so.”

“We must return to the banquet hall,” he said.

My eyes widened. “Now? Why?”

“Because our people must know you are well,” he said.

“How do you know they want me alive?”

“Because I want you alive, and my people want what I want,” he said. “And those who do not will be eliminated.”

I did not doubt his words, but I worried Adrian would make more enemies by defending me. Ana drew the blankets away, and I pushed off the bed, rising to my shaky feet. I was dressed only in a shift, but Ana helped me into a patterned robe that belonged to Adrian. He held me tightly, an arm around my waist.

“Lean on me until we are in the great hall. Once we are inside, I need you to hold your head high for as long as possible. Can you do that?”

I nodded. I knew what he was doing—showing these people I could not be defeated, that I was stronger than the poison in my veins.

We returned to the great hall. Ana walked beside me while Daroc and Sorin led, and Isac and Miha were at our back. When the doors were opened, I pulled away from Adrian and instead held his hand, my grasp tight. My legs still trembled, and the stench of urine and feces was so strong, I almost vomited, but I managed to walk the path with him, passing the gaunt faces of the men and women who had been so jovial three nights prior. They were almost phantoms of themselves. Some had shed their luxurious petticoats and jackets, now wearing the bare minimum in the hot room. Others were covered in blood, a mark that vampires at least had fed while trapped.

Adrian took me to his throne, and I sat without his help, trying not to sag, though I desperately wanted to lie down once more. Despite this, I stayed upright and watched the crowd, wondering who among these people had seen fit to murder me.

Adrian turned and drew his sword.

I realized I had only seen him fight a handful of times—once against my own people and once when he beheaded Zakharov. I wasn’t sure why this felt different. Perhaps it was the way he moved—with a predatory purpose that communicated just how angry and betrayed he felt.

“One of you attempted to kill my queen—your queen,” he said as he traversed the crowd. “You have committed treason against your king and country, and until I have the name of the one responsible, no one will leave this room.”

A grave silence followed, and then someone spoke. “You are mad, Adrian.” It was Noblesse Anatoly. “At least let your council go. We would not dare harm our queen.”

I did not believe him. I knew the hatred they possessed for Adrian, and I believed that I had somehow made that worse.

“You are not my council because I trust you,” Adrian said. “You are my council because you are useful. But you are not irreplaceable.”

Anatoly scowled. “Is this woman not irreplaceable? Is she worth losing alliances? She is only a woman, after all. There are hundreds at your beck and call—”

Like his daughter, Lady Bella, I thought, my fingers gripping the arms of Adrian’s throne.

I expected Adrian to speak, to give some verbal indication that this noblesse had offended him, but instead, Adrian’s blade cut through the air, and Anatoly’s head slipped from his neck and landed at his feet as the screams of his daughter echoed in the hall.

“What have you done?” Lady Bella shrieked. Her arms were stretched toward her father, fingers splayed, but she did not touch him. She did not seem to know what to do. Over her anguished screams, another man drew his blade and charged Adrian. It was a vampire I did not know or recognize, but I assumed he had some association with Lady Bella.

His strikes were hard but no match for Adrian’s strength and speed. Their blades clashed only a few times before the vampire joined Anatoly on the floor.

Lady Bella continued to scream.

“Clean this up,” Adrian snapped and then glanced around the room. “A warning for you all before these doors open—you are here by my grace, by my mercy. I can unmake you all.”

As his final words fell from his lips, he met my gaze, and I saw the promise in his eyes.

It was then I realized how wrong I’d been about Adrian.

He was a god.