Five

Five

I spent my morning in my mother’s garden surrounded by midnight roses—one of few flowers that bloomed in our winter. I had been told they were my mother’s favorite, with thick, velvet petals that were so rich in the color purple, they almost looked black. The cold could not manage to burn away their smell either, which was strongest in the early morning—a sweet, warm scent that reminded me of the woods and warm kitchens.

The garden was one of my favorite places in the whole kingdom, and I tried not to think about the fact that this would be one of my last visits. Each flower here had been carefully selected, planted, and cultivated by my mother. After she died, my father had seen that the care fell to the palace groundskeepers. It was much the same as when she died, except that there were far more blooms, the shrubs were lusher, and the trees were taller.

She would have loved it, but since she couldn’t, I loved it for her.

It wasn’t until Nadia came to collect me that I had to face what this day truly meant—change. She informed me that Adrian was meeting with my father again to go over the details of my departure tomorrow and that my trunks were already being packed.

“So soon,” I said, my voice quiet, and I looked around the garden through hazy vision, my chest tightening. I had not expected to stay long after the marriage. I did not imagine Adrian felt comfortable here—even being unstoppable, he was not welcome. Still, I had thought I’d have more time to say goodbye.

“Your father extended his welcome,” Nadia said. “But the Blood King refused. I cannot imagine why he is in a hurry to return you to his kingdom, unless he hopes to isolate you from us.”

I did not know Adrian well, but I did not think his reason for leaving Lara quickly was to isolate me. That seemed more like something Killian would do.

“I just cannot believe that in two days’ time, you will no longer be here.” She paused and took a shuddering breath, and it was then I realized she was crying. “What will I do without you?”

“Oh, Nadia,” I said and reached for her hand. I did not react well when others cried, especially Nadia, and my instinct was always to make her laugh. “I suppose you will read.”

We laughed together before leaving the garden to prepare for the wedding, which would take place at sunset.

We decided to use my mother’s suite, since my room was being packed. When I was younger, I spent much of my time here, pretending she was alive and that she might catch me at any moment playing with her things. Of course, Nadia was the one who found me, not my mother. Though she never made me leave. Instead, she told me stories about how my mother’s marriage had been arranged—a bridge between the inlands and the islands. How nervous my mother had been to marry my father, but how confident she had been that she would love him, because he had been kind—and because her people believed in fate and destiny.

I believed in neither.

I sat at her vanity now with dread and darkness in my heart and no hope for love, while Nadia worked my curls into a tight bun of braids and twists.

“Ouch!” I seethed as Nadia gouged my head with another hairpin.

“Do not touch!” she commanded, slapping my hands away as I reached up to soothe the place she’d jabbed.

“Then don’t stab me!”

Nadia placed her hands on her hips and huffed. She’d done my hair my whole life, and this was how every attempt ended—with her frustrated and my scalp bleeding.

I sighed and rubbed the space between my brows where a faint ache was forming.

“I didn’t mean to snap, Nadia.”

“It’s all right, my love. I cannot imagine what must be going through that head of yours.”

She couldn’t.

Because I was thinking about Adrian, once again wondering why he wanted a queen. What role did he envision for me? Was I to sit at his side as an equal? I could not imagine a vampire treating his mortal wife as more than food, and yet he had demanded my voice be heard when others would silence me. He had also promised not to feed from me…unless I asked.

I cringed. We were taught in sanctuary that the act of drinking blood was vile because it was the act of stealing goddess-given life, but I felt it was vile for a different reason: because of what it made us—prey. Why would I ever ask to be made a victim? And how could something that had caused so much death, resurrection, and pain be pleasurable?

Perhaps Adrian was a sadist.

I supposed I would find out tonight. Thinking of our wedding night should make my stomach sour, but instead, I found I felt warm at the thought.

Once my hair was done, Nadia helped me into my dress—a black, sleeveless gown that flared at the waist. Gold lace created a halter that clasped around my neck and danced down the skirt of my dress. Trini, the seamstress, had woven larks into the design. It was beautiful work, regal work that spoke of power and elegance.

I had only worn it once—at the Reaping Feast, which was a celebration of the fall harvest. It was the same night I’d pointed a dagger in Lord Sigeric’s face for suggesting I needed to be tamed. I wondered now, as Nadia laced me into the dress, would Adrian try the same?

Nadia crossed the room to open a gilded cabinet where my mother had stored her tiaras. They’d always been unlike anything another royal wore throughout Cordova because they’d come from the Atoll. Some were circlets made from exotic-looking flowers I’d never seen before, others were made of pearl, and some of precious shell. Among them was her gold coronation crown, each fringe inlaid with white and black diamonds from her homeland. Nadia turned with it between her hands and said, “Today you will become a queen.”

I allowed her to settle the crown upon my head. It was heavy with the weight of my past, present, and future.

I turned to stare at myself, and I looked sad, grieving and uncertain, but proud. I knew duty, especially to my people, and I would marry Adrian to save them.

“You should kill him,” Nadia said, and I shifted to meet her gaze in the mirror. Adrian’s words from last night returned—the threat he’d made with my body pressed against his.

Oh, my sweet. I could turn you in an instant.

“Nadia—”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I knew I was going to protest, and that thought really did make my stomach clench. Despite his threat, I should still be planning the Blood King’s death.

I turned toward her. As I did, she drew a dagger from her pocket. It was beautiful, the hilt and scabbard made with gold-plated steel and red rubies.

“Nadia.”

This time when I said her name, I sounded breathless.

“Take it,” she said. “It is a gift.”

She urged the dagger into my hands, and I unsheathed it with a snick. The blade was narrow, sharp, and unmarred.

“Kill him, Issi,” she said. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of claiming victory over the House of Lara.”

I met Nadia’s gaze.

“It is the honorable thing to do,” she added, holding on to my chin. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead before leaving the room.

I stared down at the dagger and then at myself.

You are the hope of our kingdom, Issi, my father had said. Did that mean I should fulfill my agreement to marry Adrian and step into the role as queen of Revekka, or did that mean I was one who could get close enough to kill him?

There was a knock at my door, and I jumped, not prepared to be disturbed so soon after Nadia’s departure.

“A moment!”

I slipped the blade into its sheath and shoved it between my breasts—a snug and uncomfortable fit, but it was the only place to hide it on my person, and I wanted to be armed at my wedding.

I turned toward the mirror and pretended to adjust wisps of my hair.

“Come in.”

My hands fell to my sides as I glimpsed my visitor in the mirror. King Adrian had entered my suite, dressed in a black tunic and an overcoat lined with intricate gold stitching. It did not escape me that we matched.

I turned to face him, taking in his overwhelming presence. The king was tall and filled my chamber like evening shadows. His hair fell in golden waves past his shoulders, and upon his head, he wore a crown of black spires. His strange white-blue eyes held my attention and then lowered, tracing a path down my body that left me holding my breath, warm in places that should be as dead as his lifeless heart. The fact that they weren’t made me feel like a traitor to my people—and angry with him.

“You aren’t supposed to see me before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say. Bad luck had proceeded this whole thing, but I was growing nervous under his stare, which only seemed to darken the longer he looked.

Adrian’s lips curled. I couldn’t really call it a smile. Then he spoke, his voice trickling down my spine like drops of cool water. Suddenly, my mouth was dry.

“Considering the reasons for our marriage, I think I will chance it.”

He closed the door behind him, and I heard the distinct sound of my lock clicking into place. My back straightened painfully, and I was hyperaware of the metal hilt digging into the softness of my breasts.

“Can I help you, Your Majesty?” I asked curtly.

His approach was graceful, his eyes locked on mine.

“I merely wished to look upon my bride before we are to exchange our vows.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“Having second thoughts?” I asked, elevating my voice to what I thought sounded hopeful.

He chuckled.

“No, if anything, I am more determined to make you my wife.”

He paused before me, and now I could smell him, and it reminded me of cedar forests. A fresh, crisp scent that hit like cold, misty mornings. It was calming, but only for a moment, because when I realized what was happening, I stiffened, glaring up at him.

“Why is that?”

He lifted his hand slowly, studying my eyes as his palm fell flush against my cheek. I swallowed and let a shuddering breath escape between my lips as his thumb brushed my skin.

“Do you tremble because you fear me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I breathed, because I would never admit otherwise—that his touch had a heat forming low in my stomach.

He dropped his hand.

“Then why do I sense arousal?”

“That is…” I couldn’t find words.

“Deny it,” he said. “If it will make you feel less of a traitor.”

“I wasn’t going to deny it,” I said. “But it is vulgar nonetheless.”

“Hmm.” The corners of his mouth tilted again. “I am vulgar.”

I looked away, no longer able to maintain eye contact, and asked, “Did you come here to taunt me?”

“I would never taunt you,” he said.

“It sure doesn’t seem that way.”

“That is because you are ashamed,” he said.

His words drew my gaze back to him. This time, he moved quickly, securing his hand behind my head. “Soon, however, I hope you will find pride in being my wife.”

Then he brought his lips to mine, sealing our mouths together, and something dark and frenzied flourished within my body. It was like a spell overtook me, and every inch of my skin burned with the need to be touched by him. My hands skimmed over his chest and into his hair, and when he groaned, I rewarded him by opening my mouth so he could taste me. As our tongues twined and slid together, he took me by surprise, driving me into my vanity, my back bowed beneath him as he devoured, my hands pressing into his hard muscles, his erection grinding into the softness of my heat. I found myself gasping at the feel of him between my legs, and as my hips moved against his, I knew I’d give anything to know what it would be like to have him inside me.

“Say that aloud to me,” he growled against my lips, and as he spoke, I froze. His face was inches from mine, his white-rimmed eyes holding my gaze.

“What?” I asked, breathing hard.

The corners of his lips lifted. “You want me inside you,” he said. “Say it aloud.”

I shoved against him, and to my surprise, he stepped away.

“You can read minds?” I asked. I still couldn’t catch my breath, and I hated that because it was a reminder of how I’d let him take advantage of me.

“You welcomed me with open”—his eyes drifted down my body and then back up—“arms.”

“Get out of my head!”

I pushed him again, but he grasped my wrists and pulled me flush against him.

“Do not be ashamed by your thoughts, Sparrow. If it’s any comfort, I wish to know the same thing.”

I narrowed my eyes at the sudden use of a nickname I had not approved and jerked in his grasp, but he held me tighter.

“Your hair is beautiful.”

My brows knitted together. “What?”

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the tight coil Nadia had worked so long to style had sprung free. I tore myself from him, staggering back. His stare pinned me, dark and lustful.

“At least we can be sure of one thing, Sparrow.”

“And what is that?” I asked, seething. I hated him for how he’d made me feel and that he knew it.

“We both know what we have to look forward to tonight.” Then, as if he thought I could not guess what he was implying, he added, “When we consummate our marriage.”

He had no idea we would not even get that far. It was my turn to smirk.

“I think you should leave, King Adrian,” I said and brought a hand to my hair. “I must restore my appearance.”

His eyes glittered darkly.

“Of course, my queen,” he said and bowed.

When he left the room, it took everything in my power to remain standing.

I had just finished pulling half my hair back, leaving the rest to curl down my back, when my father arrived, dressed in royal blue. The contrast between us was stark, our colors clashing. He looked grim today, and the lines around his mouth seemed deeper.

“Father,” I said, rising to my feet. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him.

“My Issi,” he said, and as we parted, he brushed a curl off my shoulder. “You look beautiful.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

His compliment was genuine, but I could feel the strangeness between us. We were both thinking the same thing—I should not look so beautiful for him.

“I brought you something,” he said and held up a small, rectangle package. I took it and sat on the bench in front of the mirror before tearing away the beige paper to reveal a carved wooden box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It reminded me of the things my mother kept from her homeland.

“Open it,” my father encouraged, and when I did, a pure lullaby chimed.

“A music box,” I whispered.

“Yes. I had it made for your birthday…but since you will not be here, I thought it a fitting gift for today. The song is one your mother would hum before you were born.”

My eyes watered. “What is the song?”

“I do not know the name,” he said. “Only a few words.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke the lines:

“Moon above and earth below,

Bring my love stars that glow.

Far past midnight, shadows sneak;

Bring my love dreams that speak.”

His voice trailed off, but the music continued, and when it died, I hugged the box to my chest, my vision blurred by tears.

“I intended this day to be happier,” my father said.

I looked at him and reached for his hand—the skin was thin and spotted.

“I’ll be all right, Papa.”

Right now, I could speak those words with some level of belief, because tomorrow still seemed so far away. Tomorrow, when we would leave Lara for Revekka.

“Will you?” He stared at my hand on his for a moment and then placed his other atop mine.

“So long as you are safe, I will be well.”

There was a knock at the door, and Nadia entered. Her expression was grave as she spoke. “Your Majesty.” She bowed. “It is near sunset.”

Which meant it was time.

My father stood and held out his hand for me to take. I left the music box behind and walked beside him down the cold corridors of our castle, out the main entrance. We made our way to the Sanctuary of Asha, flanked by the royal gardens.

I had been to other weddings, both royal and nonroyal, and none had been this morose. Lara weddings were vibrant and exciting, grand affairs that lasted all day and all night. Well-wishers would line the walkways to cheer for the couple and toss amaryllis, clematis, and baby’s breath at their feet, all of which would be gathered by flower girls who would make a bouquet for the bride.

But as I walked with my father, there were no well-wishers and no flowers—only guards who led us and followed us. Killian waited at the temple doors, radiating anger. It hit me in waves, crushing my chest, but his fury only ignited the same within me, and I glared at him. I knew what he was thinking—that I chose Adrian over him—and I supposed, in a way, I did. But that didn’t matter when it wasn’t a choice. I held to what I said before—I would choose neither if it had been an option.

A set of Killian’s guards were stationed outside the temple door, and as we approached, they opened. The Sanctuary of Asha smelled like damp earth, and as we crossed the threshold, we were shrouded in a dim, red-orange light. It came from behind the altar—a large, twisted tree that reached to the darkness above—and there, before it, was Adrian.

Once again, I was struck by his beauty—by the glow that seemed to rise from his skin and hair. I hated how my eyes held on to his, how forceful his gaze felt, how immediately my body responded. I had no ability to catch myself or repress the thoughts, and I was sure Adrian had read my mind by now. Beside him was a vampire I did not recognize, but he was handsome—just as tall, lean, but athletic. He had short, dark hair and a defined jaw, his lips were thin, and pronounced brows made his eyes shadowy.

I held Adrian’s gaze as I approached. A heavy silence followed us, and it was Adrian who broke it as I released my father’s arm to face him.

“You are stunning,” he said, smiling down at me, his eyes glittering darkly.

“You forgot to say so earlier,” I said.

He smirked. “Are we talking about that?”

“I don’t see why not,” I replied. “We learned valuable information about one another.”

“It sounds as though you would like to learn more.”

“I want to know everything about my enemy,” I said. “But I am in no hurry. As you so delicately reminded me early, we have all night.”

Adrian smiled, showing his teeth. “Oh, Sparrow. There will be no time for talking.”

It was my father who cleared his throat as another person joined us in the sanctuary—Imelda, a priestess of Asha. She was dressed in deep-blue robes, her hair covered with a hood, and a piece of silver rested against her forehead, disappearing under her hood. She held a gold cord between her hands—it would be the cord that bound us as husband and wife, king and queen.

“Princess, Your Majesty,” she said and held out her hands for each of us. There was nothing to indicate the start of our vows, no welcome for those who gathered, no talk of the importance of union to bear children, as was common. Instead, Imelda moved straight to vows. Her voice was clear and warm—a beautiful tone that put me at ease despite what she was about to do. “This handfasting symbolizes your pledges to one another. Do you swear from this day forward to honor, respect, and commit to each other?”

She did not mention love, and I had to admit that my heart squeezed, mourning the loss of something I would never have, even as I had determined I’d never wanted it.

“I do,” Adrian and I said in unison, our eyes holding.

Then Imelda joined our hands. Adrian’s swallowed mine, and his palms were rough. I liked the feel, though, because mine were no smoother. It was a sign of the lives we’d lived. Always on the defense, always ready to fight.

“As your hands are bound together by this cord, so too shall your lives be bound as one.” As the priestess spoke, she began to tie the cord around our hands. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop thinking about how Adrian’s hands had captured my face, how they would descend down my body tonight. These were blasphemous thoughts—thoughts I was certain he could hear.

The priestess continued, instructing us to repeat her next words, and as she did, the slither of the cord caressed my skin, and my fingers tightened around Adrian’s, an unconscious move that came with the vows I spoke.

“These hands will feed you, protect you, and guide you. These hands will ease your pain and carry your burdens. They will hold you and comfort you…”

My gaze lifted to Adrian, who watched me with fire in his eyes, and I wondered if his hands would ever offer anything our vows promised. At my thought, his lips curled, and I already knew his mind well enough to guess his vulgar retort.

“And so the binding is made,” the priestess finished. “As your hands are bound together, so your lives and souls are joined.”

With our hands bound and our vows sworn, Adrian’s mouth covered mine. I braced myself for his kiss, expecting something akin to the passion he’d displayed in my chamber, but all he offered was a quick press of his lips to mine, then another on the edge of my lips before he straightened.

We turned together, facing our small gathering, and I noticed my father waving a servant forward. The man carried a tray upon which was a loaf of hard bread. I looked to my father.

“We thought it best you break bread here.”

Part of the handfasting tradition was the practice of breaking bread as husband and wife, usually at a banquet that would follow the ceremony. I had not considered that there would be no feast in celebration of my new husband. This was meant to be a quiet affair, except that while everyone in my kingdom could pretend it never happened, I would still be living this nightmare.

Adrian did not argue or challenge the arrangement. It was likely he knew this was for the best. If we had held a feast, it would have included human and vampire, and despite the agreement, it would have been wrought with tension that inevitably led to bloodshed.

Adrian took the bread and pulled a piece from the loaf.

“Hungry, Sparrow?”

“Starving,” I said, meaning to sound sarcastic. Instead, I sounded breathless.

Adrian placed a hand upon my face while he brought the bread to my lips. I opened for him, and as he pushed the food into my mouth, I bit down on his thumb.

He inhaled between his teeth, his hand tightening in my hair, and he brought my head close to his as if he meant to kiss me. There was movement around us as Adrian tugged his finger free of my mouth, his lips pulling away from his teeth as he smiled.

“I am sure you meant to harm. Lucky for you, I like teeth.”

He released me and I glared at him, breaking a piece of bread to feed him, but before I could, his finger caught my wrist, holding my hand in place as he took the bread into his mouth, sucking my fingers before he released. I inhaled as my cheeks flushed, embarrassed by Adrian’s display. Even if he had not been the enemy of my people, I was not keen on public displays of affection.

He released me suddenly, and I swallowed hard, my eyes leaving his to look anywhere else.

“Isolde, go with Nadia,” my father said.

Every sense that had been heightened within me bottomed out. My face drained of all warmth, and my stomach twisted and soured. Even the air changed, thickening. Everyone, even my father, knew what I was being sent off for—to prepare for tonight.

My hand was still tied to Adrian’s. I lifted it between us, but before I could move, his lithe fingers were already in motion. It was strange to watch his lethal hands carefully work the cord free. I expected viciousness from this man, knowing that he was capable of it, and yet here, in the Sanctuary of Asha, one would never guess he was a warlord.

The soft cord slipped from my hands, and Adrian’s eyes lifted to mine.

“I’ll keep this on hand,” he said. “For tonight.”

I knew he wasn’t joking, and it wasn’t his words that frustrated me so much as his tone. He had made light of our consummation during this whole event, and in front of my father. My anger boiled over, and I gathered as much saliva in my mouth as possible before spitting in his face.

“Isolde!” Commander Killian spoke my name, and I felt his hand on my arm as if he wished to whisk me away before Adrian retaliated, except that Adrian’s cold gaze turned to him instead of me.

“Release my wife, Commander,” Adrian said. “You insult me by assuming I would harm her.”

“Let her go, Killian.” It was my father who spoke.

I could tell by Killian’s grip that he did not want to release me, so I jerked in his grasp until he did and glared at Adrian.

“I anger you,” he said. “I am sorry. We will speak of this later. Go with your maid.”

I could not hide the shock I felt at his sincerity, and for a long moment, I was rooted where I stood, staring. Then he reached out a hand, and I let him brush his fingers along my lips and across my cheek.

“I will be along shortly,” he said.

I swallowed hard and turned on my heels. Before I knew it, I was running out the sanctuary doors—the doors I’d entered as a princess and left as a queen—while Nadia followed after me.