Seven

Seven

I woke to movement, lying on my stomach in the bed I’d shared with Adrian. Peeling my eyes open, I found the door open as maids hauled steaming pails of water to the metal tub. I shifted onto my back and sat up, holding the blankets to my chest. My body was sore and sticky, and I was pretty sure I’d only fallen asleep an hour ago.

I found Adrian standing by the window, staring out at the night. He was fully dressed and in different clothes than those he’d worn at the wedding. These were not as fine as what he’d worn last night, but they were travel clothes. Still, he looked every bit the ruler, clad in black and crimson. He wore no ornamentation, but he did not need it. His presence spoke of his power.

How was he functioning after the night we’d had together?

At that thought, he looked at me over his shoulder.

“I do not need as much sleep as you to feel recovered,” he said.

“That hardly seems fair.”

He turned fully toward me, and there was a moment when all I could think about was how his skin had felt against mine, how his body had moved inside mine, how desperate I’d been to come and make him come. Tendrils of desire curled inside my body, flushing my skin.

I may have borne his marks, but his body also bore mine—and that was where I was torn. As much as I’d met my match in pleasure, it was through my enemy’s body.

“I know what you think of my kind,” he said, and there was a glimmer of amusement before his expression turned more serious. “But there is more to us than the monstrous parts.”

“Are you trying to suggest you have redeeming qualities as a murderer?”

“Why not ask your father that question?” Adrian said.

“My father is not a murderer. He has fought bravely to defend his kingdom.”

“So it is only murder when your people are killed?” Adrian asked.

I glared at him. “You were created to curse us.”

Adrian stared, and I could not tell how he felt about my comment. But after a brief pause, he licked his lips and answered, “Well, I cannot argue with that.”

The vampire king crossed the room to the chair beside the fire where I’d found him sitting last night before our coupling began. He retrieved a fur-lined cloak and clasped it around his shoulders.

“Bathe,” he said. “You will not have the chance for the next week.”

I glared at him but rose, wanting to wash all evidence of his claim to me from my body. At my thought, he chuckled.

“That is not possible.”

I reached for the closest object, which happened to be a heavy brass candlestick, and launched it at him. It soared past him and hit the wall, damaging a painting that hung just behind his head.

“Stop reading my mind!” I snapped.

“That is like asking you to stop feeling,” he said.

I sighed, frustrated. “I hate you.”

“You hate parts of me,” he said.

“I hate all of you,” I said. I let my eyes shift down, but he was fully dressed, and it was impossible to tell if he was aroused.

“Then why are you wondering if I am aroused?” he asked.

“Because I wonder if you get off on arguing,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “To answer both.”

I scowled. “Stop reading my mind.”

He chuckled, and I turned on my heels, hips swaying as I headed for the copper bath. I hoped his cock grew tight and his balls heavy with need.

The water steamed, making my face sweat as I neared. I sank into it, groaning as Adrian approached, swiping a few items off a nearby table.

“Soap?” he asked.

I met his strange eyes first, then let my gaze fall to his hand, hesitant, wondering if it was some kind of trick.

“You can call for Nadia,” I said.

“I did not think you would want her to see you like this,” he replied.

I knew what he meant. I looked down at my breasts, my skin covered in dark bruises from Adrian’s hungry mouth. It was bad enough that the Blood King lived, worse that I had let him touch me, enter me, destroy me—and he knew that. Except that instead of forcing me to face my people in a state that would expose me to shame, he was protecting me from it.

I took the soap and the washcloth he offered next.

“Thank you.”

He inclined his head before turning his back and walking toward the window again.

“We will depart for Revekka tonight?”

“Yes.”

“If you intend to conquer the rest of Cordova, why not leave me here until your conquest is complete?”

“No.”

“So you will leave me in Revekka while you conquer my country?”

“I will return to Revekka with you and remain until you are established as my queen.”

“You would risk the Nine Houses plotting against you in your absence?”

“The Houses can plot all they want. I am inevitable.”

He wasn’t afraid. He believed he was truly untouchable.

And he was—as far as anyone knew. I’d stabbed him in the side, and he’d healed immediately. My father must have believed so too, which was why I was now married to the king of Revekka.

I stared at him. “And what does it mean to be established as your queen?”

It was the only question that mattered to me now.

“My people must respect you,” he said. “But they are predators and you…you are a sparrow.”

“Are you calling me weak?”

The thought had me squeezing the washcloth, and when he looked at me, his gaze was both gentle and oddly proud.

“We both know you are not weak,” he said. “But not even you can survive the Red Palace without someone to teach you our ways.”

I’d never thought much about the ways of vampires, but now I wondered—what was their culture? Were they as barbaric with one another as they were to my kind?

Adrian certainly made it seem so.

There was a knock, and both our heads snapped toward the door. Before either of us could speak, Nadia entered, cradling towels. She paused, staring down at something before bending to pick up the knife I’d used to stab Adrian last night. She held it by the pommel, between her thumb and forefinger, the blade crusted with Adrian’s blood.

“Good morning, Nadia,” I said, folding my knees to my chest, as if I could hide the bruising on my skin.

Her gaze shifted from the knife to me, then to Adrian, and I knew she was trying to figure out how it had gotten there and how both Adrian—and I—were still unharmed. After a moment, she seemed to come out of her shock and spoke.

“Issi,” she said. “Good morning.” She crossed to the bed, where she set the dagger on the nightstand. “I brought fresh towels and your travel clothes,” she said, draping them on the bench at the end of the bed. “Shall I help you dress?”

I opened my mouth but hesitated. My gaze shifted to Adrian. I hated that I looked to him for guidance. After a moment, he offered a small nod.

“We leave in an hour,” he said. “You will want to say your goodbyes before then.”

Adrian’s boots thudded against the floor as he headed for the door. Nadia and I stared at each other until it clicked shut and we were alone.

“Issi.” Nadia’s hands fell to her sides. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine, Nadia,” I said quickly and returned to scrubbing my skin and my hair.

“Let me help,” she offered, and I sank beneath the water, holding my breath until my lungs hurt. When I surfaced again, I rose to my feet and stepped out of the tub, facing my maid.

She stared, her mouth hanging open.

“Issi,” she breathed.

“Bear witness to my shame, Nadia,” I said. “I could not kill him.”

And I let him fuck me.

Nadia seemed to overcome her shock enough to reach for a towel and fold me into it as she brought me in for a tight hug. I let her hold me, because this would probably be the last time I saw her. She pulled back, and I held on to the towel as she cradled my face.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

It was the truth. He had been rough, brutal even, but it was nothing I had not willingly accepted.

“Do…you…favor him?”

“What? No,” I said, but as I rejected her inquiry, her eyes drifted to my neck and shoulders. I sighed and pushed past her, reaching for the clothes she’d brought me.

“You cannot blame me for asking, Issi. You let him—”

“Fuck me,” I interrupted. “It doesn’t mean anything, Nadia.”

She glared. “It does where I’m from.”

“It has nothing to do with where you are from. You are well aware I’ve had other lovers. It is only because it is Adrian that you are appalled.”

“Adrian? You’re calling him by his given name?”

I shoved my feet in the leather leggings and pulled on the blue tunic she brought.

“Did you even try to kill him?” Nadia asked.

I leaned toward her, shoving my hand toward the table. “Did you not see the bloody knife?”

“How many times did you stab him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “Because you know what happened within seconds of stabbing him? He healed.”

Not even a scar remained, which meant that the scars on his back and the one on his face were there before he became immortal.

Nadia looked a little shaken by the news. Still, she said, “I never knew you to give up so easily.”

“Give up?”

“Will your first attempt at assassinating the Blood King be your last?”

I stared at her. “Have you heard nothing I said? He cannot be killed, Nadia.”

“Everything dies, Isolde.” She crossed the room and retrieved the knife from the bedside table before approaching me again. “You could be the savior of your people, of the whole country, and when you have conquered him, you can come back to Lara where you belong.”

My chest ached already, and my eyes stung. Back to Lara. I hadn’t even left yet, and I was already desperate for home.

“This is an opportunity, Issi,” Nadia said and placed the knife in my hand. “The Blood King has a weakness, and you must find it.”

Nadia left after her lecture, and I finished getting ready. I arranged my weapons, securing my retractable blades at my wrists. The blades themselves weren’t long, and they had sat against my skin so long, not having them felt wrong. I also cleaned the knife Nadia gave me, washing away Adrian’s blood, though afterward, I thought perhaps I should have kept it as proof that I’d at least tried to murder him. When I was finished, I sheathed the knife at my waist. The last item I layered was a cowl-neck cloak; it was practical for the icy nights but hid my shame as I left the room that bore witness to my treason.

I was still angry because even now, I wanted him, because last night I couldn’t stop myself from touching him, because I had taken every chance to ride his cock and let him come inside me. He swore it wasn’t magic that had me in his hold, and I believed him. Last night, I had been claimed in ways I’d never been before, and I had acted in ways I’d only ever dreamed, but there was something about Adrian that made me feel I could be passionate, rough, erotic—without restraint.

And so I had.

Wherever my desire came from, it was primal, and he matched it.

The goddesses were cruel.

I found my father in the great hall where my nightmare had begun. Today, it looked much different, with wooden tables arranged in a large rectangle, the benches crowded with courtiers, both eager to please my father and witness my fate. King Henri sat elevated behind a similar table, beside him Commander Killian, whose gaze I avoided. Except he proved to be the least of my worries, because as I entered, silence descended, and so did my embarrassment.

There was no hiding how I’d spent my night. My father had known he’d sent me off to consummate a marriage, and so did the kingdom, despite my union being a quiet, lackluster affair. They’d expected to wake this morning and discover I had killed the Blood King. Had my father thought the same?

I made my way toward him when I was halted by Marigold, the daughter of Lady Crina Eder. Marigold liked to stay at court rather than her home province of Belice, and she’d tried to become my friend, but she did not like what I liked. One day in my shadow, traversing the wood to explore, and she had given up. I’d understood then that she’d expected something very different from a friendship with me—days at court in pretty dresses and silk shoes, only walking along the worn paths of the royal gardens and trading palace secrets.

But I was not that kind of princess, and today, I was not that kind of queen.

“Princess Isolde,” she said and curtsied, wearing a dress made of scarlet wool. This particular fabric had been dyed a deep purple, which contrasted with her vibrant green eyes and yellow curls.

I considered correcting her address but declined. I was fine with being Isolde, princess of Lara, another day.

“I did not have a chance to see you yesterday after the…arrangement was made. I wanted to express my condolences.”

Her voice echoed in the hall, not because she was speaking loudly but because everyone was still quiet, watching our exchange.

“Your condolences?” I repeated.

I knew marriage to the Blood King was not ideal, but I wished everyone would stop treating this as if it were my funeral.

“You must be devastated,” she continued.

I imagined that everyone in Lara thought they could guess how I was feeling. They only had to consider their hatred for Adrian to relate, but there was something about being in this room on the first day of my marriage to the vampire king, beneath the judging eyes of my people, that made me want to speak on my courage.

“I am not dead, Lady Marigold,” I said.

She hesitated.

“I may not have had a choice in my partner, but I have a choice as to how I move forward, and you can be certain I will use that power to my people’s advantage, so perhaps you should be congratulating your queen.”

Marigold’s cheeks turned pink, and she stammered, “Of course. I apologize, Queen Isolde.”

She brushed past me and headed for the exit. I continued toward the dais and curtsied.

“Good evening, Father,” I said quietly and took my seat beside him. The food laid out at the center of our table was traditional fare—cheeses, dried meats, and vegetables. There were also tankards of wine and mead. I took in the sight and the smells, knowing that this was my last night of familiar food and drink.

My last hour at home.

After my send-off, my father and his kingdom would retire to bed and perhaps be less fearful of the night.

“Isolde,” my father said. “Are you well?”

“I am.”

I kept my eyes on my empty plate, my cheeks flaming. I could not bring myself to reach for food. There was silence again, and then Killian spoke. “Eat. You must be hungry,” he said. I lifted my gaze. He could have stopped then, but he added, “You barely slept.”

It was his way of telling me he knew how I’d spent the night, and his jealousy was apparent.

I narrowed my eyes. “I will eat when I am hungry, Killian. As it stands, I am rather sated.”

His eyes flashed, a mark of his surprise and shock at my open challenge. The commander set his fork down, and I expected him to pounce, to expose some part of my life to the entire room, but my father intervened, setting his own utensils down and pushing away from the table. As he stood, so did the whole room.

“Come, Isolde,” he said quietly. It was his tone that told me I wasn’t in trouble, and yet my heart raced at facing him alone. Still, I rose and followed him into the adjoining anteroom where we’d waited yesterday for Adrian to arrive. Once inside, I turned to him.

“Father—”

Before I could finish speaking, he hugged me tightly. I said nothing. As soon as I felt the weight of his arms around me, I burst into tears.

“I have disappointed you,” I sobbed.

“You could never disappoint me.”

I was certain if he knew the extent of my truth, he would disagree. Instead, he clasped my shoulders and drew me away. Our eyes met, and he touched my chin.

“Feel no shame, Isolde,” he said. “You are but a victim here.”

A victim.

I hated the word. I was also princess of Lara and now a queen, though I did not completely understand what I ruled—a nation of monsters, a country of my conquered people? Still, there was power in the ruins of the life I was about to leave behind. I refused to fall under the weight of these circumstances, not when I had so much at my fingertips.

We did not return to the great hall. Instead, we made our way outside, into the cold evening, and followed the stone path that cut through my mother’s garden. The gardeners had lit lanterns, and the flames cast dancing light along our path. I kept my arm looped through my father’s, passing barren plots and leafless trees, our breaths frosting as we spoke.

“I tried to kill him,” I said, and my father’s steps slowed. “I knew vampires were hard to kill, but I did not think it was impossible. Adrian, though, is impossible to kill.”

“Perhaps it is not Adrian who must die,” my father said at length.

My brows furrowed. I did not understand. “What do you mean?”

“There is a greater evil than the Blood King, Issi,” my father said. “And it is the power that created him.”

“You mean magic?”

He nodded.

Over two hundred years ago, before the Nine Houses united, Cordova’s countries were advised by witches, women who were initially thought to be blessed with the ability to harness magic, until they turned upon their kings. For their treason, they were burned at the stake in an event known as the Burning. It was said that in the aftermath, Dis, the goddess responsible for witches and their magic, cursed Cordova with a plague of mortal fears. Shortly after, vampires manifested from the darkness and, with them, other monsters.

“If Adrian is a curse…can curses not be broken?”

My father’s gaze leveled with my own. “Only the king himself knows,” he replied.

It was my father’s way of telling me to find out. He turned and picked one of my mother’s midnight roses, reminding me once again, “You are the hope of our kingdom.”

He was giving me a mission—one I accepted as I took the rose.

We continued through the garden, and when we returned to the castle, Adrian waited with the same dark-haired vampire who had been present at our wedding.

“My queen,” Adrian said as he lifted his hand to his heart and bowed his head. “Allow me to introduce my general, Daroc Zbirak.”

As my gaze shifted to him, the general bowed, though I got the sense he did so begrudgingly—which was fine with me, because I did the same.

“General,” I said, inclining my head, biting my tongue so I did not say the things I truly wished. So you are the man responsible for the fire, the destruction, the death in Cordova. Still, I let those thoughts cycle through my mind, hoping my emotions were high enough for Adrian to hear them. Then I wondered if Daroc possessed the same abilities as Adrian.

“Daroc has arranged your escort,” Adrian said.

“I have appointed my best soldiers as your guards, my queen,” Daroc said. “They have been instructed to ride outside your carriage during our journey to Revekka.”

“Carriages are targets,” I said. “I will not ride in one.”

There was a beat of silence, and I looked from Daroc to Adrian. Neither of them blinked. I could not tell if they were surprised by my response or irritated.

“Our journey will be long, my queen,” Adrian said.

“I am a princess born of Lara,” I said. “I can ride for hours.”

He lifted a single brow, and the corners of his lips followed. “Very well. We shall find you a horse.”

Adrian looked to Daroc, who bowed and left, presumably to find my horse.

There was a strained silence that followed his departure. I could not help feeling completely awkward in the presence of my new husband and my father, and I was relieved when Adrian spoke. “You are welcome at the Red Palace in two weeks’ time,” he said to my father, “when Isolde’s ascent to queen is made official. I will send an escort to ensure your safe passage into my lands.”

“That is generous of you, King Adrian,” my father replied, his tone wavering toward sarcasm. “I welcome any chance to look upon my daughter again.”

Something thick gathered in my throat, and I wondered who I would become in that time? Would my father even recognize me? Would I recognize myself?

“Issi is my greatest treasure,” my father added, and while I looked at him, he kept his eyes upon Adrian. “I trust you will place her safety above your own.”

It was the second time he’d asked Adrian to ensure my well-being. It was a little ironic given that my father could do nothing against the vampire king if he decided to harm me, save go to war.

“Without a second thought,” Adrian replied. “She is my wife.”

Those words were like a strike to my chest. They should have sounded false, but they didn’t. I stared at him, half in disbelief. I did not expect him to respect our marriage vows so fully, especially when I was still plotting ways to murder him.

The thought brought a smile to Adrian’s lips, and I scowled. I would have to figure out what triggered his mind reading or a way to veil my thoughts. Was that possible without magic?

“It is time, Isolde,” Adrian said.

Up until this point, I thought I could handle leaving my father, but suddenly I was faced with the reality, and it hit me so hard, it stole my breath. My throat closed up, and my eyes burned as I faced him.

“I will see you soon, Issi,” Father said and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes against his affection, wanting to memorize this moment. It felt as if it would be the last time I inhaled his scent, felt the warmth of his touch, heard the sound of his low, rugged voice.

I swallowed thickly.

“I love you,” I whispered through lips that quivered.

“I love you,” he replied, and I tucked those words into my heart, spoken so softly and so rarely, as I held his calloused hands for what felt like forever. Slowly, I let my fingers leave his, immediately wishing I could return to his side even as I backed away. I turned and faced Adrian, whose stare was curious and remorseful, and took his outstretched hand. He said nothing as we walked side by side, exiting the castle at the very front where a crowd had gathered beneath the night sky to watch my departure—a mix of guests from High City and courtiers.

Once again, I could not help feeling that this event should be filled with more celebration, and if I had become a queen to any other king, that would be the case. Instead, my people looked on in fear, disappointment, and horror.

My father followed and stood atop the steps as I descended them, only to meet Nadia at the bottom. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying, and she dabbed at her face with a white kerchief.

“Dear girl,” she said and drew me into her arms. I had managed to keep a cap on my emotions until that moment, when a cry burst out of me. It was only for a moment—a strangled sob that I grabbed on to and shoved deep down as Nadia whispered against my ear, “Remember what I told you.”

Then she kissed my hair and released me.

I moved on from her, turning toward Adrian, who waited patiently beside two horses. Both were gorgeous steeds with shiny, black coats. I approached the one Adrian stood near and stroked his nose.

“Their names are Midnight and Shadow,” he said. “Shadow is mine.”

“And who did Midnight belong to?” I asked. Adrian had not planned on returning to Revekka, least of all with a bride. An extra horse usually meant a death. The question was, had it been a vampire or a mortal?

Adrian did not answer but instead said, “Come. We must depart.”

I took the reins from Adrian and grabbed a tuft of mane with the same hand. With my other, I grasped the cantle of the saddle and placed my foot in the stirrup, pushing off the ground as I swung my leg over. Once I was settled, I stared down at Adrian.

“What place do I take in line?” I asked.

“You ride beside me,” he said. “It is where you will be safest.”

My brows drew together. “I am safe with my people.”

“Perhaps you were as princess of Lara,” he said. “But today, you are queen of Revekka.” He left my side and then mounted his own steed. “We will ride until sunup,” he said.

Daroc, who appeared to be the only vampire who had accompanied Adrian into the city, rode ahead of us, and as we fell into step behind him, I looked over my shoulder one last time at my father, who stood wreathed in the lantern light at the front of Castle Fiora, poised and regal and alone.