King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(35)

“Attack!” Daroc barked.

“The queen!” Adrian commanded, and he yanked his horse around as if to charge for me. But I was confused. Nothing seemed to be amiss.

Then a fiery arrow cut through the air, lodging in the carriage behind me. Others followed, breaching the curtained window, igniting the interior, and within seconds, it was consumed in fire.

Carriages are targets, I thought just as an arrow whizzed past my face. Another hit my horse near my leg.

“No!”

Midnight neighed and snorted, a mark of her pain. She bucked and then tried to walk, wobbling until she stumbled forward as her legs folded under her. As she hit the ground, people emerged from between the trees—my people, dressed in gray shrouds, bellowing fierce battle cries. Some were armed with weapons, while others carried equipment from their farms—pitchforks and axes, sickles and slashers.

“Stop!” I commanded, but my voice was buried beneath the clash of weapons as my people met the skilled end of a vampire’s sword. The blood sprayed immediately, and I watched in horror as my people were slaughtered by creatures who moved faster and hit harder. I felt helpless, sitting near my horse, unsure of how to proceed. I could not raise my weapons against them. I could not raise them against my husband’s army—not when I was expected to continue this journey to Revekka.

A trio of vampires made an arc around me—Sorin and Isac and Miha. Their movements were controlled, their blades catching each blow aimed at their bodies, and I got the distinct impression they were moving slower than they were actually capable of. I had expected different behavior from them. I’d been told vampires fought with nails and teeth, that they lunged in battle, flying through the air to attack their victims with a viciousness I did not see here.

Were they trying to spare my people?

My gaze shifted to Adrian, who was in the middle of cutting down a man who had an arrow pulled back on his string, but he had no chance to even loose it as Adrian’s blade found a home in the hollow of his neck. A spray of blood followed as he pulled his weapon free. Another arrow raced toward his back, and he twisted, knocking it out of the air, eyes narrowing on the culprit—a smaller man who stumbled back at his approach.

I rose to my feet.

“Stay down, my queen!” Miha ordered.

But I couldn’t. I wanted the bloodshed to stop, and I bolted through their barrier. I was not sure what I really intended to do. Perhaps I thought if Adrian ceased fighting, others would. What I had not expected was the determination of my people to kill me.

No longer guarded by the trio, I became a target.

“The queen!” someone shouted just as a man, one of my own, came toward me, blade overhead. I turned, moving at the last second and letting my knife release into his back. There was a moment when he paused, his body arched unnaturally as he stared, wide-eyed, at me. Once, I’d been his princess, and now I was his murderer. His blade clattered to the ground, and he followed.

I took up his sword in time to face another opponent. The word felt so wrong, to look at the man opposite me as an enemy, and yet as he charged, an ax in hand, that was exactly the side he took. He swung his weapon violently, and as I ducked to miss his attack, I swung my blade out, cutting into his legs. His cry was silenced as I released the knife at my wrist into the bottom of his chin. His blood coated my hand and sprayed across my face, and I shoved him away in horror, blinking through hot tears even as another gripped my hair and yanked me backward. I stumbled and fell, saved only by the knife I was able to release at my wrist to counter a blow aimed for my head.

A large man stood over me, wielding a blade like an ax, swinging down as I rolled away. I reared up, kicking my attacker in the face, and as he released his hold on his blade, I took it and rose to my feet, shoving it through his stomach.

The fight continued like that with my people charging, calling me traitor. Each time I cut down one of my own, a piece of me went with them. My face was wet with tears as I faced a young girl. She could not be any older than me, with the same dark hair, the same dark eyes, the same dark skin.

“Why are you making me do this?” The question tore from my mouth, a devastated demand.

“No one is making you,” she replied. “You chose the Blood King. You are the traitor.”

Those words were an even harder blow, and I took a step back.

“You know nothing of my sacrifice.” My voice was visceral, my hurt and anger so acute, I felt like my skin was on fire. I’d done this to protect them. I’d done this so that they could have some kind of life beyond yesterday’s surrender, and here they were, squandering it all.

“It doesn’t look like sacrifice,” she said. “Queen of Revekka.”

She lifted her blade and charged. My hands were slick with blood and sweat, and my grip on my sword was faulty. I could barely hold the hilt as her blade clashed with mine. Two more blows and my weapon flew from my hands. As triumph flashed in her eyes, I shoved my other hand toward her, losing my knife in her soft stomach. Her eyes widened, her body went slack, and I caught her as she began to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, but even as she stared blindly at the night sky, she spoke, her words harsh.

“If you were truly one of us, you would have killed him.”

Blood dripped from her mouth, and as I settled her upon the ground, she went slack. My body shook, angry. Sitting there on my knees, I gave a frustrated cry and shoved my dagger into the earth beneath me.