Nine

Nine

Those screams continued, but when I woke up, it was to silence. The only thing that clung to me was a feeling of dread that had settled deep in my chest. Beside me, Adrian was asleep. He was naked and lay atop the covers. The low light from the brazier reflected off his lean and hard muscles. The curve of his erection drew my eyes, and I wondered if he was ever not aroused. I considered that he was too trusting to fall asleep beside me like this, and yet I did nothing but slip from bed and dress, stepping into the fading day. All around, the woods looked as if they were burning, set aflame by the sun.

The camp was quiet, eerie, and I did not feel as safe as I expected, given that I was still within the borders of my home. Even outside the tent, the icy feeling in the pit of my stomach remained, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was about to happen.

A high-pitched mewling drew my attention, and I turned in the direction of the sound. Between the dead boughs of the trees, I saw buzzards circling. Again, that strange dread overcame me, sharper this time. They’re looking for food, I thought and hoped Adrian kept his promise to bury my people.

A chill wind swept from behind me, dragging my hair into my face and carrying the distinct smell of death, but we were too far from those who had perished last night, and this smell was strong, indicating days of decay. Another cry erupted from the vultures, and I watched as one peeled away from the volt. As it did, the others followed.

And so did I.

I cut through the trees, following the birds in the fading daylight. I started moving at a walk, but my pace increased. As I went, tree limbs caught my hair and thorns gripped my clothes and scratched my skin, but I was urged on by a sense of alarm that turned my stomach, despite a growing fear of what I would find.

The trees began to thin, and I came upon a village that was surrounded by a tightly woven wooden fence. In Lara, most of the villages were given the name of the family who founded them. In this case, a carved sign indicated the name to be Vaida.

The gate, which faced me, was closed. That was not unusual, as it was almost sunset. What was unusual was the quiet…and the smell.

There was death here.

The vultures cawed, and I saw them swoop down to land inside the gate as I approached.

“Hello!” I called, and my voice echoed in the trees around me. It was unsettling, and as the wind picked up, swirling the smell of rot, my skin prickled.

I pushed on the gate, rattling it to get someone’s—anyone’s—attention, but there was no response.

A soldier should be stationed here, I thought. One of Killian’s guards.

I squeezed my hands between the fence and the gate and tried to pry open the door. There was enough of a crack that I could peer through, and what I saw elicited a cry from my throat.

I released the gate, turned on my heels, and vomited.

“Isolde!”

The voice that called my name was familiar, and I didn’t expect its presence. I looked up, sobbing, and screamed at Killian, who rode toward me upon his horse.

“They’re dead! They’re—”

I couldn’t say it. I’d only seen part of two bodies, but they seemed to have been skinned alive. As I recalled what I’d witnessed, my stomach roiled again.

Killian dismounted and came to me.

“We need to leave,” he said and took my shoulders, pulling me from the fence. I wrenched away.

“Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you,” he said through his teeth. “And if we don’t leave now, we’re next!”

“Release my wife, Commander.”

Adrian’s voice was cold, but his presence surprised Killian enough that he loosened his hold, and I whirled toward Adrian, who stood apart from us. He looked just as callous as his voice had sounded, his face and hair pale, his clothing immaculate.

“They’re all dead,” I said again.

“He knows,” Killian said. “He’s responsible.”

If Killian’s words angered Adrian, he did not show it. He remained calm as he asked, “You are so certain, Commander?”

I shook my head and swallowed, feeling the bile rise in the back of my throat again. “No. This wasn’t vampires. This was…”

I did not know, but I knew vampire attacks, and vampires did not leave humans looking like what I’d seen…did they?

Adrian’s eyes met mine, and in an instant, Daroc, Sorin, Isac, and Miha appeared. I blinked, shocked by how quickly they moved.

“Open the gate,” Adrian commanded.

I watched as Daroc effortlessly scaled the wall.

“Do not look,” Adrian said as the gate groaned open.

All the while, Adrian held my gaze, even as Daroc returned to summon him.

“Your Majesty, you will want to see this.”

Adrian’s eyes did not waver, and it was if he were asking me if I’d be okay.

I swallowed and nodded before I was left alone with Killian. I had words for him anyway. I didn’t watch Adrian disappear into the village, because I had seen enough to know that the bodies lay right before the gate. It wasn’t until Killian himself stopped watching and shifted to look at me that I spoke.

“Your men should have been patrolling. How long has it been since they ventured this far north?”

“You berate me for not protecting them yet turn to the man who slaughtered our people. We found the graves, Isolde.” Killian stepped in front of me. “Leave with me. You aren’t safe with them.”

“I am not safe here,” I argued. “Our people, the ones you found. They tried to kill me.”

“You were just caught in the crossfire—”

“No, Alec, I wasn’t.”

There was a pause, and then he said, “You cannot be angry with them. You did not even resist when he took you away.”

My lips flattened as I glared. My anger was acute, a flush that made my whole body hot. Killian had been present during the discussion.

“You know why I didn’t resist.”

“Why? Because you feared for your people? Or because he fucked you the way you wanted?”

I narrowed my eyes. I’d guessed that he’d lingered outside my door on the night of our wedding, and this confirmed it.

“Do not shame me, Killian.”

“I am only pointing out that despite professing to hate him, you appear to enjoy his company.”

“So you are justifying the attack,” I said.

“Isolde—”

“I am your queen,” I cut him off. “You will address me as such.”

Killian’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flared. “So this is how it will be.”

“If what you have said is truly how you feel, then yes.”

He blinked, and for a moment, I could see his doubt and confusion warring.

“If you are finished trying to convince my bride to leave me, then I think it would be wise for you to inform your king of what has occurred here.”

I flinched at Adrian’s words and turned to face him. As I did, I caught a glimpse of the corpses beyond the fence and felt the blood drain from my face once more. Adrian shifted to block my view.

“And what exactly will I tell him?” Killian asked.

“That a whole village was slaughtered,” he said.

“By whom?” I asked.

Adrian’s eyes settled on mine, and despite the fierceness of his expression, his gaze seemed to soften.

“My guess would be magic.”

“There is no magic, save yours,” Killian accused.

“That is a myth of our existence,” Adrian said. “I have abilities, not magic.”

“I thought magic had been eradicated with the Burning,” I said.

“So long as spells exist, magic will prevail,” he said. “This is the kind of chaos humans make when they summon magic they cannot control.”

Magic was considered a gift, not a skill. Even before King Dragos ordered the Burning, those who were not born with magic were forbidden to speak spells.

“You are saying one of our own spoke this”—Killian gestured toward the village—“into existence?”

“Not necessarily,” Adrian said. “The spell could have been cast from anywhere.”

I felt even more dread at that thought.

“And do you really think my king will believe that? Knowing you were here?”

“My father will believe you, Commander,” I argued. “Adrian has told you what he thinks occurred. You should communicate that.”

Killian stared and kept his jaw tight, but after a moment, he bowed. Part of me wanted to go with him so I could tell my father what I’d seen myself. I knew Killian would not want to admit that his guards had neglected to travel this far. I also wondered if this village was destroyed, were the others?

The commander departed, and after a moment, I felt Adrian draw a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“How are you?” he asked.

I stared at him, my mouth slightly ajar. I didn’t know why it always surprised me that he asked if I was all right, and yet this was the third time.

“Will this happen again?” I asked.

I did not know much about magic. Once a spell was cast, was it like a plague? Did it continue until it had nothing to consume?

“It is hard to say without knowing what kind of spell was cast or by whom,” Adrian replied.

So he was telling me there was no way to fight it. I swallowed the thickness gathering in my throat.

“We have to bury them,” I said.

“We’ll have to burn them,” Adrian corrected, and despite the gentleness of his tone, I still flinched.

Until corpses began to rise from the dead, burning was for witches and those who were caught using magic—not victims of it.

“Do you think they will rise again?” I asked.

“No, but since we do not know what killed them, fire is best. It will cleanse the ground.”

* * *

Adrian returned to camp with me, and I managed to keep my tears at bay until we were inside the tent. He left me to cry, for which I was thankful, and returned later after I’d composed myself. We rode to the clearing together, the cold air stinging my wet face, and as we approached Vaida, I could see several bodies piled in the center of town through the open gate, all covered in white cloth. Adrian’s soldiers had been hard at work in my absence, and I admired the care they’d taken to wrap and stack them, even if it was only so they could be consumed with fire.

We kept our distance from the open gate as the vampires dropped torches upon the bodies and made their way out, closing the gate behind them. It wasn’t long before the smoke rose, spreading the smell of burning flesh.

As I watched the smoke rise, I spoke, not looking at Adrian. “How did you know this was a spell?”

“I am over two hundred years old,” he said as a way of answering.

It meant that he had lived during the Burning.

I had questions for him—questions about magic and witches and the world that he had existed in long before I was born—but I did not ask them, because there was a part of me that wondered if I could trust his answers.

After a moment, Adrian turned to me. “I will leave one of my men behind to aid your father, but we must continue on to Revekka.”

I hesitated as he spoke, the hate I felt for him overpowered by a sense of gratitude.

He called to one of his soldiers. “Gavriel!”

A large blond vampire strode forward, his gold armor glinting in the firelight.

“Return to Castle Fiora,” Adrian said. “Take Arith and Ciprian with you.”

“Yes, my king,” he said and then looked at me. “My queen.”

The three wasted no time mounting their horses and setting off in the direction of my home. I worried at their return but hoped my father, at least, would accept their aid.

“Thank you,” I said to Adrian, though the words sounded strange in the space between us.

He did not smile, did not act as if the words affected him.

He crossed the field to his horse. It took me longer to move as I stared at the flames that were now consuming the wooden wall, effectively erasing Vaida from existence. I could not explain the grief I felt for my people or the guilt that burdened me as I prepared to leave them to face this unknown enemy.

But there was a part of me, a small one, that felt like it was some kind of retribution.

I relented and went toward Adrian, mounting his horse. He followed behind me, his body cradling mine as we continued through the darkness.

* * *

I had expected to relax more as the hours passed on our journey. Instead, I found that I was even more on edge, waiting for the next attack or to find the next massacre. It had only been a day since leaving High City, and yet those hours had been filled with a horror I’d never expected—something far greater than the arrival of vampires at our border.

“You are safe,” Adrian said, and I was conscious of how his hand pressed against my stomach.

“I am safe,” I said. “But what about my people? You said you would protect them.”

“I have given you all I can against magic,” he said.

I wanted to be angry at him for not being that powerful, but I couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, I asked, “I did not think there was anyone left who could speak spells.”

“Do you really believe a king let that kind of power slip through his fingers?” Adrian asked. I turned my head toward him, but with my back to his chest, I could only feel the brush of his jaw against my cheek. He was referring to Dragos, the former king of Revekka, whom he had killed.

“Is that why you murdered him?” I asked. “Because you wanted what he had?”

He did not answer the question. Instead, he said, “So you know my history.”

“Everyone knows your history,” I said. “You stormed the Red Palace and murdered King Dragos and his pregnant wife in their sleep.”

“I did not murder them in their sleep,” he said. “They were dragged from their beds, and when Dragos faced me, he begged for his life to be spared and offered his wife as a gift. I slaughtered him. His wife I spared, but she jumped from her tower window.” He paused and then added, “I did not know she was with child until after her death.”

“Do you think that somehow excuses your actions?”

“I am not seeking a pardon,” he replied.

I expected him to explain himself, to tell me that the murder was justified, but he didn’t, and after that, we did not speak.

We did not travel as long as the previous night, stopping a few hours before sunrise. Once again, when we reached our chosen campground, the tents were already up, and the vampires who had ridden ahead to prepare camp had already lit fires for warmth and food.

“Tomorrow, we will be in Revekka,” he said, following me into our tent. “Do you need anything?”

He seemed in a hurry, which I found strange. I thought he would linger, and I hated to admit that I’d hoped he would. I had questions about spells and witches and the Burning, but if he could read my mind, he did not jump to offer answers. I wasn’t sure if that was due to my emotions not being extreme enough for him to sense what I was thinking or because he wanted to leave, so I shook my head. “No.”

I noted how he swallowed and inhaled a sharp breath. “Then get some rest.”

I would ask him where he was going, but I did not want him to think I was asking him to stay, so I let him go.

Once he was gone, I shed my clothes and curled into Adrian’s warm furs, but I could not sleep. I kept thinking of how quickly those in the castle, at the gates, and in the villages beyond High City had turned on me. Even Killian seemed to think my choice to marry Adrian meant I had chosen a side. Except now, I felt like I was being forced to the only side that had defended me, that had sworn to keep me safe and had actually done so.

Why did it have to be Adrian who kept his promises?

I sighed and sat up, too restless to sleep, and left the bed. I dressed in my tunic and cloak, deciding to step into what remained of the night. If I was in High City, I would have wandered beyond the gates of the castle in search of stars, but there were few left as the early morning grew brighter. Even if I had wanted to be alone, I did not trust these woods or the monsters I might have attracted, so the camp would have to do.

I peered through the tent opening, finding a few of Adrian’s soldiers lingering near the fire that had been built between us and the rest of the camp. I had a feeling they’d been stationed there to guard me until Adrian returned, and I wondered where Sorin, Isac, and Miha had gone. I was growing fond of the trio, but I thought it would be harder to convince those three to let me walk around the grounds alone than it would these four strangers.

I stepped out of the tent. The air was cold against my skin and my tunic too short for this weather, but being outside in the open made me feel as though I could breathe again. The vampires who were gathered around the fire looked over and scrambled to their feet.

“My queen,” one said. “May I be of assistance?”

“I cannot sleep. I am going to walk the perimeter of the camp.”

The three exchanged a look. “Can she do that?”

“I think what you mean is will Adrian like that?” I said. “And for the record, I do not care.”

“At least allow one of us to escort you,” another suggested.

“I can defend myself.”

“We are aware, Your Majesty, but—”

“I appreciate the offer, but I would like to be alone,” I said, and drew my cloak tighter around my body, and though they allowed me the space to stroll between the tents, I felt their eyes on me—no one was letting me out of their sight.

This was the first time I’d wandered farther than Adrian’s tent, which was some distance from the others, and as I cut through to the edge of the wood, I was not prepared for what I heard as I passed—passionate moans, chanted names, desperate pleas to let me come.

I suppose I should have expected more grotesque displays of sexual behavior based on what I’d learned about vampires, but I had not even thought of it beyond my own experience with Adrian. Hearing these pleasurable sounds, however, made me stiffen, and suddenly I worried over why Adrian had been in such a hurry to leave our tent.

What would I do if I found him with another woman? The thought filled me with an acute rage. In part, it was due to the fact that I had to give up my life to exist with him in a foreign land and also because I had asked him not to sleep with other women after we were married. If he broke that promise, I would make him suffer.

But I never heard his voice, only the cries of his army—in particular those of Sorin, who gasped Daroc’s name so loud, my heart jumped into my throat. I wondered at Adrian’s second-in-command. The stoic guard seemed far too serious to have any passion, but hearing what I was, I had clearly been wrong.

I turned the corner and glanced to my left, my eyes catching on a sliver of light that cut across the ground from a tent. I halted. There, through the opening, I saw Adrian holding a woman. Her head was bent back, her pale hair spilling into his lap, his lips pressed to her neck, and while their embrace looked sensual, I knew it had nothing to do with sex. He was feeding. Behind him were other vampires, mouths molded to necks and wrists, crimson spilling onto their skin and clothes.

Now I understood why I’d never seen any of them feed on the road and why we stopped traveling before sunrise. I should feel grateful that I hadn’t had to witness it before, but seeing this now, I found that I was both horrified and angry. The act was despicable but also intimate, and a horrible jealousy tore through me as the woman Adrian was holding arched into him, her fingers digging into his skin.

At my flare of anger, he looked up, his bright eyes meeting mine even at this distance. My horror overpowered my jealousy, and I turned on my heels and returned to the tent. I half expected Adrian to follow, but he didn’t. I crawled beneath his furs, taking a breath that rattled my whole chest before closing my eyes against threatening tears.

I was living in a whole new world.

I woke later and rolled over to find Adrian reclining in a chair across the tent. Candle flame flickered on a table beside him, highlighting his grim features. He was so pristine, so beautiful, I was glad I’d seen him with the woman earlier. I’d let a few kindnesses blind me to who he really was—a monster.

“Did you fuck her?” I asked. “The woman whose blood you took?”

His eyes connected with mine. “No.”

I studied his expression for a long moment, trying to decide if he was lying, but the Blood King had never been anything but honest—frustratingly so.

“Who…was she?”

I assumed she was now dead, but Adrian corrected me. “She is a vassal,” he said. “She—like many mortals—have agreed to serve me and my court.”

My gut reaction was to be disgusted. “Serve you?”

I did not know what that meant. Did that only mean bloodletting? Or was he suggesting more?

“They offer their blood and are richly rewarded,” he explained.

“So you bribe them?”

“You may call it whatever you like,” he said. “In the end, I am fed, and they are rich.”

“So you pay them from the treasury you stole?”

He stared at me, his hand propped against his face, lithe fingers fanned against his cheek. While I got the sense he did not like my reply, he also did not let my comment antagonize him as he answered, “At least I pay them.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but I refrained and asked, “How often do you drink?”

“Every day,” he said.

“What happens if you don’t?”

“It is my sustenance,” he answered.

“You told me before I would beg you to take from me. Why would I ever want that?”

I could not imagine how he would think I would want him to feed from me.

He smiled. “Because as much as I draw life from it, all you will feel is sweet release,” he said, and then he tilted his head. “You like release, don’t you, Sparrow?”

I ignored his question. “I fail to see how something so vulgar could mean pleasure.”

“There are a lot of vulgar things that bring pleasure,” he said. “I am one of them.”

“So you are telling me this…bloodletting…brings your vassal pleasure?”

There was something about that knowledge that felt like betrayal.

Again, there was a pause as Adrian replied, “You are more than welcome to take her place.”

“I’d rather not,” I said.

I’d already offered my body to this man. Offering my blood would be an even greater betrayal. Besides, I did not like the idea of being connected to him in that way—of being sustenance.

“Have you been…fed from?” I asked.

“No,” he said, and there was a strange sadness to his eyes. “No one feeds from me.”

“Why?”

“Because I do not allow it.”

“Why?” My voice seemed to grow smaller and smaller. Adrian paused, staring at me before rising and approaching the bed. His robe hung open, exposing his chest and his erect cock, which was where my eyes caught until he placed his hand on my face, hooking his fingers into my hair.

“Because only my queen may take from me, and she is mortal.”

Then his mouth closed over mine. I tried hard to keep my hands to myself, refusing to show him how much I wanted this, but I arched to him, like a puppet attached to a string. I released the furs from my grip and twined my fingers in his hair. He lifted me, my legs wound around his waist, and he turned to sit with me in his arms. My tunic rode up, and my naked flesh sat against his swollen length. The feel of him had my stomach tightening into a hard knot. His lips left mine to trail along my jaw, down my neck, over my shoulder. As he moved, I felt the scrape of his teeth. All the while, his hands pressed into my ass as he guided me along his cock. I gasped at the feel of him, thick and heavy between my thighs.

Then he dipped his head, his mouth closing over my nipple, peaked with arousal, and he spoke against my skin. “I could drink from you, you are so wet,” he said.

I found myself pushing him onto his back while I straddled him.

“Then drink,” I challenged, and he grinned as he guided me to his face. I kept most of my weight on my knees, staying still as he began, his tongue licking and thrusting, his lips sucking and kissing, but soon I started to rock against his mouth, tilting my hips, grinding harder. The more I moaned, the harder Adrian’s hands pressed into my thighs, my ass, my breasts. He was everywhere all at once, and I was lost in this, addicted to the feeling building inside me. I chased it, raced for it, setting a faster pace that Adrian seemed all too pleased to maintain. I came with a guttural cry, and he held me a few moments longer, drinking between my thighs just as he promised.

Then he helped me slide down his body before he rolled, pinning me beneath him on the bed. His legs parted mine, the crown of his cock poised at my entrance.

“How is tasting your come different from drinking your blood?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Drinking blood is sacrilege.”

“According to your goddess,” he said. “It’s not the first time Asha has villainized something she wished to destroy.”

My brows knitted together. I was confused by his statement—what else had she villainized? I was also desperate to feel him move. “That is blasphemy.”

“Are you pretending to be pious?” he asked, a small smile on his lips. Perspiration had formed on his face, and I felt heat building between us.

“I don’t know what you mean by pretending,” I said. “I am a saint.”

“Oh, Sparrow, no one who fucks like you is a saint,” he said and filled me in one brutal thrust. I cried out at the feel of him, instinctively lifting my hips and widening my legs to accommodate him deeper. When I focused on his eyes again, he bent to press his lips to my neck and jaw.

“Sing for me, Sparrow,” he commanded and set his pace, moving inside me steadily. It was neither slow nor rapid. All the while, he watched me, his long hair teasing my skin, and I did exactly as he bid—I sang for him, I cried for him, I screamed for him.