King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(61)

“More than something,” I replied and then met her gaze. “What more do you have to show me?”

I did not wander far from Ana as we continued through the gardens. I did not think it was possible for them to get any more beautiful, but they did. Each layout was different, each path offering a different route through gardens of roses, hemlock, and amaryllis, past great pieces of art—glass prisms that shown like rubies beneath the sky and statues carved of volcanic glass depicting the lesser goddesses.

“Does Adrian…worship the old gods?” I asked.

“He worships no gods,” said Ana. “That does not mean he doesn’t believe in them.”

“Why would he offer them a place in his royal gardens then?”

“You can respect someone and not worship them,” Ana said. “Rae and Yara and Kismet, they are peaceful goddesses.”

Her statement suggested that Asha and Dis were the opposite, and I was curious about her thoughts, but just then, we stepped through a set of high hedges that backed up against an encroaching line of trees, distracting me from my question.

“This is the grotto,” Ana said.

I was momentarily taken aback by this place because I had been here before—just last night—and while it looked different in what light the red sky offered, there was no mistaking that smell or the presence of jasmine trees all around.

The pool, which had appeared dark in my dreams, was full of clear, crisp water from which steam rose as the heat met the cold morning air. Part of the pool was tucked beneath the castle, creating the grotto. Under the canopy, the walls appeared to be painted into a soothing swirl of calming colors.

I wandered closer to the edge of the pool and then turned in a slow circle, recalling my strange dream. How I’d felt when Adrian had approached, how desperate I was for him to never leave my side again, and yet how afraid I was we would be caught, and despite all that, I still took him into my body. My thoughts were a chaotic storm—a mixture of the Isolde who had loved Adrian in the dream and the one who wondered how I’d imagined a place I’d never been. Was this some kind of magic? Perhaps something residual that had followed me from Sadovea?

“Isolde?” Ana asked, a note of concern coloring her voice.

My gaze snapped to hers.

“Are you all right?” she asked. It wasn’t lost on me, the number of times I’d been asked that since leaving Lara.

“I—”

Before I could speak, a bell began to toll, and I looked to Ana for an explanation.

“It is noon,” she said. “The castle gates are opening for court. I must get you to Adrian.”

“Court?”

“Adrian has been gone for so long. While he is here, his subjects will petition him to end feuds, send aid, or even turn them.”

“Turn them? Into vampires?” I’d been told this but still couldn’t seem to believe someone would ask for it.

“Immortality is desired by many, Isolde,” Ana said. “The question is who will present as useful to Adrian and, now, to you.”

To me? Was I expected to grant immortality too?

Our return to the castle was through an alternate entrance. The corridors were narrower and colder, but Ana promised it was the best way to travel the castle without interruption.

“There are maps,” she explained. “You can get just about anywhere except the library.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because it was added during Adrian’s reign, and the passages were from Dragos.”

We exited the corridor into a closet, which led into a hallway, and from there, Ana escorted me to a room just off the great hall.

“You only need to knock,” she said. “He knows to expect you.”

I waited until she was gone and did so, finding Daroc on the other side.

“My queen,” he said and bowed as I entered. I wondered if he hated bowing to me, if he hated me. At least, unlike others in the castle, he did not show it.

“Commander.” I nodded as I swept past him, halting as soon as I was inside the room.

“I take my leave,” Daroc said and left me alone with Adrian.

He stood opposite, dressed in black, holding a small book. His surcoat was far more embellished, with a design embroidered all over in gold thread. Over the top, he wore a black fur vest and over that a collar of gold. He had pulled half his hair back, so that some fell in soft waves around his face. A black crown of spikes made him appear far more imposing.

I had dreaded this moment, facing him after asking him to leave last night. My chest felt heavy, full of a static that increased the longer I held his gaze, which took effort, because I did not want him to see how I felt. Even I did not know.

“Isolde,” he said.

“Adrian.”

We stared at each other, and before he could broach the subject of last night, I spoke.

“What do you expect of me?” I asked.

Adrian’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“During court. Am I merely an ornament to adorn the seat beside your throne? Because if that is the case, then I decline your invitation.”

Adrian set aside the book he had been reading and faced me fully.

“You make many presumptions, wife. Your presence by my side is not up for discussion, nor is it for show. You are my queen. I expect we will rule together, which means your participation during court.”