King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(31)

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.