Nineteen
Nineteen
Three days later, I felt mostly recovered. Adrian assigned a food taster, a man who was brought into the kitchens in chains and made to sample my food and drink my wine under Daroc’s supervision. It all felt very surreal, but so had my marriage and the subsequent attack by my people.
This was my life now, I realized.
This was my life forever.
I did not hate it, however. But as the day of my father’s arrival and my subsequent coronation drew near, I became more and more anxious. I could honestly say, for once in my life, I did not know how to act. I’d grown so comfortable with Adrian. I liked him despite what he was. I’d grown to appreciate his past, even understand High Coven and despise King Dragos.
I had changed.
But I wasn’t sure how to be this person around my father or even if I could. I faced the possibility of distancing myself from Adrian or my father, and that thought made me sick. This wasn’t a world where I could have both, even though my father had surrendered to the Blood King, even though I was married to him.
I stood at the entrance of the castle upon the steps, waiting for a glimpse of my father’s blue cape and his spotted horse, Elli. I could climb to the top of the castle walls and see farther—at least to the boundaries of the Starless Forest—but I did not want to fight the stairs as I raced to his side. I shifted from foot to foot, restless, worried, unsure of what my father might face on his journey to the Red Palace.
“What troubles you?”
I looked up at Adrian, who stood beside me, dressed in his regal, black robes. He’d pulled some of his hair back, and it exposed the high parts of his face to the light. He was breathtaking—a darkness in this bright courtyard.
“I am just worried for my father,” I said.
“Gavriel will take good care of him,” Adrian said.
“I know, but I will worry until I see his face.”
I looked up as Sorin flew overhead, shifting as he landed in the courtyard below. I took a step down, anxious for information.
“Your father is well,” Sorin said. “He is almost within sight.”
I stepped beyond him then, to the edge of the courtyard where the trail snaked down the side of the hill into Cel Ceredi. A few seconds passed when my heart thrummed through my whole body, and then I saw my father and I broke wide open. I did not think it was possible to feel such happiness or such relief.
I took off at a run, my legs barely carrying me. I knew when he saw me too, because he set off at a gallop. He dismounted before he got to me and ran the rest of the way, and as we embraced, I sobbed.
I had missed him so much. I hadn’t even realized it until this moment.
“My sweet Isolde,” he said.
He pushed me away and held my cheeks, his eyes roving over my face. I felt as though he was looking for something, perhaps scars, both physical and mental. Here was the beginning of my guilt, but I quashed that thought by pulling him in for another hug.
“I missed you so much,” I said.
“Oh, my gem, you do not know the depth of my sorrow.”
Each word chipped away at my heart, and by the time we pulled apart, it sat in the bottom of my stomach in pieces.
It was then I noticed Commander Killian, who stood apart, waiting patiently with the delegation.
“Commander,” I said.
“My queen,” he said back, bowing his head. I expected his gaze to be a little severe, but instead, he looked genial, and I wondered what he had come to think of the vampires since they’d so often come to Lara’s aid as Adrian had promised.
I glanced behind me, up at the Red Palace. “Come. I will show you to the palace.”
My father did not remount. Instead, we walked together back to the castle, the delegation following a few paces behind us.
“How was your trip?” I asked, hoping to keep the conversation light but also curious to know if he had encountered anything unusual.
“Thankfully uneventful,” he said.
“How are things in Lara?”
Asking after my home brought more anxiety. I was not certain I wanted to know the truth. Between the uprising and Nadia’s letter, I did not know what to expect, and right now, all I could think of were my father’s words: You are the hope of our kingdom.
But so many things had changed since then. He’d said that before my own people had attacked me, before I’d learned the truth about Dragos and High Coven, before I’d learned that my mother’s people were enslaved.
And suddenly I wondered if my father had known about King Gheroghe and Nalani.
Surely not, I thought. I hoped.
I would have to ask him later.
“Uneasy,” he said. “I am not so surprised. I knew my surrender to the…” He trailed off and then cleared his throat, correcting himself. “I knew my surrender to King Adrian would cause unrest.”
My father did not look at me as he spoke, and I found his understanding of the revolt a little unsettling. Still, I did not prod, continuing to keep our conversation companionable until we reached the courtyard, and my father grew silent. I looked in his direction, his eyes settling upon Adrian.
He descended the steps and approached us, placid and composed. “King Henri,” he said. “Welcome to the Red Palace.”
My father tipped his head back, observing the monstrous structure. “I appreciate the offer to see my daughter and the escort to Revekka, King Adrian,” he said. “It is good to see you are well.”
I was not certain my father meant the last part, but he was a master at hiding what he truly felt. I had once believed that made him a better king. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“Of course,” Adrian said and stepped aside, gesturing for us to move into the castle ahead of him.
I requested refreshments be brought up and then escorted my father to his room as Adrian saw to his men.
I had spent so long imagining what it would be like to reunite with my father, I never anticipated that we would have nothing to talk about. But as I sat opposite him in his suite, at a table laden with fresh fruit, bread, and tea, I found I had nothing to say.
“Is Nadia well?” I finally asked.
“Yes, yes,” my father replied. “She misses you.”
“I miss her,” I said, and our conversation trailed off again.
To fill the silence, my father slurped his tea. As he set his cup and saucer down noisily, he asked, “Does he treat you well? The Blood King?”
“Yes,” I said without pause. “Yes, of course.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I did not know if it was because he thought I was lying or he did not like my answer. Finally, he dropped his gaze.
“Well,” he said, taking a breath. “I think I would like to rest.”
“Did you know about Nalani?” I asked. The words had been building in the back of my throat, and I couldn’t stop them from spilling out.
He blinked, then looked down.
“Issi—”
“Don’t.” I stopped him. “How could you look at me every day and not think of the fate of my people? Did you not think I would want to do something?”
“Isolde, those are not your people. You were raised in Lara.”
I flinched. “But you married my mother. Did you not promise to protect her people too?”
“I promised to protect her, and I did.”
“Did she know what King Gheroghe had done?”
He did not answer.
“You didn’t protect her then. You lied to her.”
I stared at him and realized what had weighed on me since his arrival—I no longer knew him. And he no longer knew me.
You will come to find that blood has no bearing on who you become,Adrian had said before, and he had been right.
I left my father’s room in a daze, feeling a keen sense of disappointment and sadness. I could not quite decide how to feel about my father’s decision. I tried to rationalize that perhaps he felt as Adrian had. Perhaps the threat of vampires and monsters and protecting his people far outweighed attempting to free my mother’s people.
Still, why was I raised knowing nothing of their enslavement? That felt like a betrayal on its own.
I considered returning to my room to rest but decided instead to head into the garden. It had become my place of solace, just as the one in Lara had been, and right now I needed its comfort. As I wandered the worn paths of the garden, I found Adrian lingering near a pool of water. I had not been sure where he would retire while my father was here, and it was the first time I’d encountered him in the garden, though I usually came early in the morning.
He stood, framed by trees and a vine-covered wall looking brilliant beneath the red sky.
“What are you doing?” I asked, coming to stand beside him.
“Watching my fish.”
He did not look at me, just stared into the pool.
“Your…fish?”
He said nothing, and I supposed he did not need to repeat himself, because as I came to stand beside him, I saw the fish too. There were larger ones and small ones; some were orange and white, and others were silver and black. They mingled and parted, a mesmerizing dance.
“Are they…your pets?”
Adrian’s lips quirked. “I suppose you can call them that. They make me feel calm.”
I wondered what spurred his discontent. Was it that my father had arrived from Lara? Or that Isla was still missing and Ravena was on the run?
“And you?” he asked. “Why do you come to the garden?”
My thoughts were far more personal than my answer. I came to the gardens because while I did not know my mother, the flowers felt like her embrace. And that was what I craved right now.
“The same as you.”
We were both quiet for a moment, and then Adrian said my name, and it wasn’t until I looked at him that I broke.
I cried. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, and I met his mouth with mine, and soon my back was against the vine-covered wall, my legs wrapped around Adrian’s waist. We were almost frantic with how quickly we came together. His fingers bit into my thighs, while mine twined into his hair. My breaths were cries, keening and desperate as Adrian moved inside me at this odd angle.
“Sparrow,” he breathed and buried his head in the crook of my neck. As he did, I saw that we were not alone in the garden, and I choked on a moan as Killian’s name spilled from my mouth.
I felt Adrian stiffen against me, and he slowly lowered me to the ground.
I couldn’t even look at Killian, my face felt so hot. All I had worried about was how to interact with Adrian when my father and Killian were near, and here I’d been caught having sex with him. Knowing the commander, he would tell my father too. Then what? My relationship with my father already felt strained.
“Commander Killian,” Adrian said, a pitch of frustration in his voice. “Can we do something for you?”
“You dishonor her,” he said.
Adrian offered a shrewd smile.
“In what way? By fucking her against a wall? It feels like worship to me.”
Killian gritted his teeth, and I looked between them, embarrassed both by Adrian’s words and that we had been caught, by Killian no less. I hurried from the garden, heading for the secret corridors that would allow me to pass, unnoticed, to my own room, but just inside the door, Adrian caught up to me.
“Isolde!” He reached for my arm, and I twisted toward him.
“Did you do that on purpose?” I demanded.
Adrian flinched, almost like I had slapped him, and then he narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care that he saw us?”
I glared and he waited. Finally, I relented, admitting, “I don’t know how to do this. Be with you and love them.”
“No one says you cannot do both,” Adrian said.
“That is not the world we live in, Adrian.”
“You are queen of Revekka, soon to be queen of Cordova. You get to decide what world you live in.”
I returned his gaze, my chest tightening. If that was the case, why did I feel so powerless? I watched him take a breath and then step away.
“I am here when you are ready.”
Adrian left me in the corridor, alone.
* * *
As evening approached, I asked Violeta and Vesna to help me get dressed early in a gown that Violeta had made from fabrics gathered at the market in Cel Ceredi. It was sleeveless, the bodice a black appliqué that cupped my breasts and trailed down my stomach into a full skirt made of light pink silk overlaid with black tulle.
Adrian would like it, I thought, and this time as the familiar claws of guilt attempted to grip my chest, I shoved them away.
Today, I would stop feeling guilty about my feelings for Adrian.
They were complicated to be sure, but no more complicated than how I felt about the people of Lara who had tried to kill me or my father, who had kept the enslavement of my mother’s people from me.
“I saw you with your father today,” Violeta said. “You looked so happy.”
I had been happy; now I was confused and a little angry. I wondered how she felt, having my father in her country, an enemy who agreed with Dragos’s agenda, the king who had killed her family.
“I was happy to see him. He was all I had for so long, since my mother died when I was born.”
He had been my world, and there had been nothing beyond that.
Now, that was not so. Now, I had Adrian, and soon I’d have a whole nation.
“Then I am glad he is here to watch you become queen of Revekka,” she said, and despite my conflicted feelings around my home and my father, I was thankful for Violeta’s words.
The last piece of my outfit was a black circlet. It was heavier than I expected and had black obsidian gems twisted around it. As I placed it upon my head, I wondered just how happy my father would be seeing me as queen.
“If there is nothing else, my queen?”
“No, nothing else,” I said. “Thank you, Violeta, Vesna.”
The women left, and I turned from the mirror and crossed the room to store my blades inside the drawer, since they could not be hidden on my person in this dress. But as I went to put them away, my eyes fell to the book I’d taken from the library—the one in which the strange blade was hidden. I had yet to open it again, to pick up the knife, for fear of reliving the encounter with Dragos once more, but something drew me to the book, and as I opened it, I realized it wasn’t a book at all but a journal. The words were so precise, it looked like print.
I would be content, if I were free to conjure spells and teach, but Vada says my gift is too powerful to waste. She puts too much faith in these would-be kings, men who say they should rule a kingdom because their blood is different, though they bleed red like the rest of us. She thinks they will use our magic to predict drought and famine, but my king—he has the heart of a conqueror.
Another entry read:
Today the king asked if the High Coven would support an invasion of Zenovia. I asked him how that would help his people, and when I did, he said I was here for my prophecy, not my opinion.
He does not understand that they are one and the same.
The High Coven did not agree to support the king in his wish to invade, and though I believe the right decision was made, I am filled with such dread for my present and future. King Dragos will murder me. I have foreseen it.
I shared this woman’s dread, and it kept me turning pages.
My days in this life are waning. I do not have the heart to tell Adrian.
Our love will damn this world.
I felt numb with shock. Suddenly, I could connect every instance when Adrian had spoken about the witches, defended their magic, talked of their wish for peace. He had done so with such reverence, and I had never considered that it had been because he loved one of them.
He had loved Yesenia.
It was not that I didn’t believe what Adrian said about High Coven. This did not change what I had learned—what Violeta had said or the accounts I’d read in the library from Dragos’s reign—but it hurt to know that I held the journal of Adrian’s lover. That she had written in these pages, that she had professed her love for him here, and that everything he was doing now—conquering my world—was still for her.
She was his world.
And if she was his world, what was I?
Once again, I found myself asking a question I hadn’t in a long time—why me?
I let the book fall from my hands, my shock leeching the color from my face as I struggled to reconcile this new information with how Adrian looked at me, with the words he had spoken to me. I had to reason that he could also care for me and love her, but why did that suddenly not feel like enough?
I thought I knew myself, but I didn’t. I’d once been Isolde, princess of Lara, a woman who could not be swayed by pretty words or a pretty face. A woman who would not marry and would rule just as well. Then I’d been betrayed by my people, and I’d come to rule a land of monsters—a sparrow among wolves indeed.
This Isolde, the queen of Revekka, had been blinded.
A knock at the door grounded me, and I bent to pick up the book.
“Are you ready, Isolde?” Ana asked as she opened the door, and then she paused. “What’s wrong?”
I could not recover enough to lie.
“I know about Yesenia,” I said, because I was certain she knew too. She was Adrian’s cousin, and she had existed just as long as he had.
“Isolde—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She just stared, and I shoved the book back into the drawer, along with my knives, shutting it so violently, it shook on its legs.
“It’s not what you think, Isolde.”
“Then what is it?” I snapped, looking at her. She was pale, and there was a moment when I felt terrible for bringing this upon her when Isla was at the forefront of her mind.
“Adrian cares for you.”
It was my turn to flinch. “I think he loves Yesenia.”
“You cannot be angry with him for avenging her death,” Ana said. “He watched her burn at the stake, and when he tried to fight, they whipped him. He almost died.”
A thickness gathered in my throat. I’d touched those scars, traced them with my own calloused fingers. They were raised and jagged, and they covered every inch of his skin.
“That night, he not only lost the love of his life, but he also lost his king. Adrian had been loyal to Dragos, a member of his Elite Guard.”
“He should have been more discerning then,” I said.
Ana looked devastated by my comment, and her distress hit me in the heart.
“You don’t know what it was like,” she said, her voice quivering. “We were all… None of us saw it coming.”
Yesenia had, which meant she had kept the knowledge from everyone, including Adrian.
I swallowed the pain and the anger that had gathered in my throat. “Ana—”
She shook her head, silencing me. “We will be late.”
She did not wait for me, and I did not blame her. I had been insensitive. She was right. I did not know what it was like to live during the Burning or the Dark Era, and I was not personally connected to anyone who had lost their lives. It was not for me to judge how someone should behave or what secrets they shared around something so traumatic.
Still, I was hurt. I could admit that to myself. And when I was hurt, I wanted to fight.
The great hall was once again packed, wall to wall. Mortals and vampires alike crowded around tables or huddled close together, making room for those who wished to dance. When I entered, someone began a chant.
“Long live the queen!”
It continued, and people bowed, though I could not help feeling like I was surrounded by enemies: people who felt Adrian was distracted by me, people who had expectations of me that I could not meet. I was a threat to everyone’s agenda.
I supposed that was my power now, and I just had to stay alive long enough to use it.
It was already hot in the room. Perspiration was gathered between my thighs and breasts. It would be an uncomfortable evening in more than one way, I realized as I crested the dais where Adrian waited. His presence was a physical blow. He was dressed in a black tunic over which he wore a fine, black velvet surcoat. He was like the night, and his face was lit like a star, framed in a halo of blond hair.
I held his gaze, and he seemed both sincere and tender. I was torn between letting go of my rage and stabbing him as he greeted me.
“My queen,” he said and held out his hand. I took it, not wishing for him to know that I’d discovered his secret. Not yet. I only thought with relief that I had avoided making a fool of myself. Moments before I’d found Yesenia’s journal, I would have gone to him. I would have told him I was ready to make the world I wanted.
I could still have it, I reminded myself. Adrian was only a vessel through which to achieve my goal.
I shoved my hurt down and lifted my head. I would enjoy this night, and I would be crowned queen tomorrow, and I would seek a way to have my own form of vengeance. And perhaps, in the end, I would rule as I was meant to—alone.
“My king,” I acknowledged curtly.
Adrian raised a brow. “Are you feeling well this evening?”
“Extremely,” I replied, trying to calm myself enough so that he couldn’t read my mind. It was hard to imbue my voice with anything but disdain. I moved past him, headed for the high table where my father stood. Normally, I would have embraced him, kissed his cheek, but tonight, I only greeted him.
“Father,” I said.
“Isolde.” His voice was much softer, as if he wished to say something, but I did not look at him, and I did not even greet Killian, who stood opposite him.
Adrian came to stand beside me, Daroc and Ana on his right. As he sat, the rest of us followed. I reached for my wine, and though I knew it had been tested in the kitchens before it had arrived here at my table, I still hesitated.
“Would you like me to try it?” Adrian asked.
I swallowed, and without me even answering, he sipped.
I could not help watching how the wine stained his lips until he licked it away, and as he set the goblet down before my hand, he said, “Fine.”
“Thank you,” I said lightly and swallowed a mouthful.
It was not long after that I began to fan myself. The heat burned my skin.
“Warm, my sweet?” Adrian asked beside me.
Even as I turned toward him, I felt the sweat gathering upon my brow. He appeared unbothered.
“Boiling,” I said.
“Perhaps movement would help,” Adrian suggested. “We could dance.”
“No,” I breathed. “I’d rather not.”
It wasn’t until the words were out of my mouth that I realized how he would take my refusal. He would think I’d declined because my father and Killian were present, when the reality was that I could not face him right now. I could not be that close to him at this very moment. I wanted distance, but I had to remain at the banquet.
We drank and ate and watched the boisterous crowd, who did not change their behavior even in the presence of my father. Vampires fed from their vassals and performed various sexual acts, small fights broke out, and when blood was drawn—by vampire or mortal—there was an even greater struggle to taste it.
“Despicable,” my father muttered under his breath.
“Perhaps you should retire, King Henri, if this is too much for you,” Adrian said.
I did not like sitting between them.
“Is this how you claim to take care of my daughter?” he asked. “Exposing her to this…filth?”
I worried over what Adrian would say. Your daughter is no saint.
“She has a choice, just as you.”
“You make a mockery of the legacy of this castle.”
“And what is that legacy, King Henri? One of mass murder and the persecution of innocents?”
I pushed my chair away from the table and rose, unable to handle being at the center of their conversation and unwilling to mediate.
“Excuse me,” I said and left the great hall.
It was cooler in the corridor, and I stood near the open doors, staring at the fire that roared at the center of the courtyard. It was one that had not been extinguished since the Burning Rites. Women danced around it, flower crowns upon their head. I watched them for a moment, mesmerized by their movements and the shadows they cast. I wondered if they feared the flames like I did.
“Isolde.”
I had not heard anyone approach, and I whirled, my heart in my throat, only to face Killian.
“Apologies, Queen Isolde,” he corrected himself, though it sounded a little sarcastic. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I was suspicious of his question but answered anyway. “I’m fine,” I said. “Did you need something?”
He hesitated, eyes darting to the left before he spoke. “I would like to first apologize for how we parted.”
“But not for what you said?” I asked.
He looked at me, and I felt as though he was asking: Will nothing ever be good enough?
“What are you doing, Isolde?”
My brows lowered, confused by his question. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That monster is in love with you.”
“What?” My breath rushed out of me at his observation. The notion of love between Adrian and me was ridiculous, especially given what I had just learned about Yesenia. I was surprised by how his suggestion hurt.
“Isolde…”
“Commander—”
“Have you even tried to kill him since leaving Lara?”
“What exactly do you want from me?” I asked him. “I married him to protect our people—people who later tried to kill me. I stabbed him twice. I—”
I’d slept with him. I’d found comfort in him. I’d hurt for him.
“You love him,” Killian said, and he stared at me the way he stared at Adrian.
I shook my head. “You wouldn’t know love if it looked you in the face, Killian.”
“I thought I did,” he said.
“And you were wrong.”
I moved passed him and entered the great hall again. My gaze shifted over the crowd and landed once again on Adrian, who sat reclined, one hand lifted to his mouth as he watched me. I stared at him, at the man who had loved Yesenia, the man who had killed a king for her, conquered a kingdom for her.
She had never really died, and I had never really been his queen, his match, or his equal.
Suddenly, the sound of drums pulsed, nearly vibrating the ground. I turned, looking around me, only to find a procession of women dressed in shimmery, beaded scarves that were so translucent, I could see their breasts and the curls at the apexes of their thighs, their hair threaded through with flowers. They spun and twirled at first through the whole crowd, but then they circled me, and the woman at the start of the line placed a floral crown upon my head while another took my hands, sweeping me into their parade. At first, I resisted as I was pushed and touched, but soon I gave in to the movements, following the beat of the drums and the thud of the dancers’ feet. I let them spin me and twirl me. It was not violent or angry; it was gentle and jovial.
Before I knew it, we were outside, dancing before the large fire at the center of the courtyard, and the heat from it made me sweat. I let my hands rise into the air, and I spun beneath the starry sky while people around me laughed and danced and kissed and fucked. And I reveled in the frenzy, desperate to forget everything about Adrian and my father and my future, until the first scream broke out.
I halted in my rhythm. My euphoria was suddenly drowned in fear as the courtyard filled with a line of knights from another time. Between each pair was a woman. The first had dark hair, and somehow, I knew that her cheeks were usually rosy and that her eyes were bright blue, but right now she was pale, and there was no light in her eyes.
Her hands were tied behind her back, and the soldiers gripped her upper arms, the indentations of their fingers making her skin turn white. They only released her when they pushed her into the fire.
“Evanora!” I screamed, and I struggled but found I too was bound.
She hit the wooden pyre, and her horrifying screams filled the air. She thrashed and the wood collapsed, sparks exploding as she rolled, a ball of flame that parted the crowd until she came to a stop, dead.
The display did not stop the sequence.
The next woman was Odessa. She tried to fight, but she was subdued with a crack to the skull and tossed into the flame. She did not move but wilted there on the pyre.
I did not stop screaming, even as my voice broke and my throat bled. I screamed as my coven, my sisters, these women whose souls spoke to mine, died before my eyes. I did not know how long it lasted, but the fire began to lose its potency, and over the dying flames, I saw a set of dark eyes—King Dragos. Beside him was the woman whose magic had haunted me since Lara, Ravena, her unmistakable ginger hair even more radiant in the firelight.
When the king met my gaze, he smiled.
“Bring him,” the king ordered, and my eyes shifted to a familiar face framed with white-gold hair.
“Adrian.” His name rasped from my mouth, and my heart beat harder in my chest. “Adrian!”
He was brought to his knees before me, and I saw that his head was bleeding, his lips were cracked, and bruises bloomed across his cheek.
“Yesenia!” He looked up from the ground, desperate.
“Adrian,” I repeated his name, and for the first time tonight, I felt a sense of calm wash over me that came from a simple piece of knowledge—he would live.
He would live, and he would damn the world.
Dragos’s voice echoed in the courtyard.
“To think my greatest knight would choose a witch over his kingdom. Well, tonight, you will watch her burn. Tomorrow, you will collect her ashes. Light it.”
“Yesenia!” Adrian struggled against the guards, but they beat him until he could barely rise to his knees.
As the soldiers moved forward to place torches at my feet and the smoke rose to fill my vision and my throat, I spoke. “Do not fight, my love,” I said. “You are destined for this world.”
“Yesenia,” Adrian whispered, then begged. “Please. Please. Please.”
I shook my head and spoke words that ripped my heart in two. “All the stars in the sky are not as bright as my love for you.”
And as the flames lapped at my skin, I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw tight. I would not give Dragos the satisfaction of my screams.
At the end, I felt no pain.