King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(52)

“All this hate for what I am,” he said. “Would you feel the same if I were human like your commander?”

I glared. “You would still be the enemy.”

“You do not even know why I am your enemy,” he said.

“You are a threat to humankind,” I countered. “You have killed kings and conquered countries! No one, not the strongest among us, stands a chance against you.”

“Such a speech and yet all I hear is your fear of something not like you.”

“Do not reduce my hatred of you to difference! You are more than different. You burned whole villages, spread plague, and killed hundreds. You are a spineless, murderous—”

Adrian stepped closer and gripped my head, his hand tightening in my hair, his body flush with mine. I was not certain of his intentions, even as he bent his head to mine, even as his breath caressed my lips, because his eyes glinted with a sharp, frustrated anger.

“I know what I am,” he said, voice quiet. “Can you say the same?”

Once.

I could have said that once, a week ago, when I had been Isolde, princess of Lara. That was until I met Adrian, and from that first encounter in the woods, it had become clear I had never really known myself at all.

“You call this treason,” Adrian whispered, his fingers trailing down my face, a soft, careful caress. “But this—us—is beyond choice.”

“You’re right,” I replied, and though I knew he was talking about something that went far deeper between us, I ignored it and spoke through my teeth. “I didn’t have a choice.”

He released me, and I had to admit, the distance he placed between us pulled heavily at my heart. Maybe it was because of his expression, which seemed both pained and defeated.

“I have much to attend to,” he said and turned to leave. At the doors, he paused. “I expect you will be eager to explore the castle, but do not do so on your own. You will find those who reside here are not as easily restrained, and I’d hate to have to murder my council for turning you before I have the chance.”

With that, Adrian was gone.





Twelve


Once Adrian left, my legs gave out and I sank to the bed.

Turning me?

We had talked a lot about bloodletting, but the only time he had mentioned turning was in the form of a threat.

I think you want to kill me, and if that is the case, I should warn you now that any attempt will be met with my wrath.

So far, he had not upheld his warning. Now, I wondered if he would truly turn me without my consent, or if he assumed I would beg for it, much like he’d assumed I’d beg him to partake of my blood.

Exhaustion settled heavily on my shoulders. Adrian had stolen my energy. Every encounter with him had me on edge, my whole body twisted and knotted, waiting for his next move—would we fight or fuck? Would I always feel so torn between him and my people? As I sat here upon this regal bed, so much more extravagant than the one in my small bedroom in Lara, I realized I had not thought much beyond my arrival at the Red Palace, aside from how I would defeat Adrian. And while I was still dedicated to that mission, I was beginning to think that I needed to consider how I would reign.

Perhaps the more I embraced my role, the more willing Adrian would be to open up about his past—a past I hoped unlocked the key to some kind of weakness.

A knock drew my attention and was followed by a voice.

“My queen, it is Ana Maria. Adrian sent me to attend to you.”

I rose to my feet and opened the door, my gaze colliding with a pair of striking eyes, fringed by thick lashes. They were the color of a summer sky, her hair was thick and almost silvery, her lips plump and pink. Ana Maria was beautiful, and I was momentarily taken aback by it. She wore an emerald gown that reminded me of Lara, of the spring when the trees were blooming and the sun was bright, and suddenly, I was homesick.

I could only guess at what the woman was thinking, but as she stared at me, she seemed just as stunned by me, though I doubted it was because of my beauty. There was a flash in her eyes, something akin to disappointment, and the smile she’d prepared for me faltered. I wondered if she had expected someone different, and what sort of investment she had in what Adrian’s wife looked like? Perhaps she had not expected someone of island descent.

To her credit, she quickly recovered. “My queen,” she said again and bowed. “I heard you were injured.”

“Yes, come in,” I said, stepping aside to let her enter. I worried once the door was closed that things between us would become awkward. I was not familiar with this space or how to entertain, and the only chairs were near the fire—which I was not going to approach—but once Ana Maria was inside, she asked, “May I see your arm?”

I extended it toward her, and she peeled back the dressings Euric had wrapped. As the bandage came free, it felt like another layer of my skin was being removed, and I inhaled sharply.

Ana Maria frowned. The wound looked far more irritated than it had earlier.

“Adrian could not heal it,” I said. “He said it was because of magic. Do you know why?”

She glanced at me and then said, “We do not even know why he is able to heal at all.”

That surprised me. I’d thought all vampires could heal others, but it appeared only the Blood King had that gift. “If he cannot fix this, how will you?” I asked.