King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(22)

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.