King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(30)

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.