King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(7)

“I heard what you said. But what is wrong with needy? He would be devoted to you.”

“He would be controlling.”

And I’d have to sleep with him…regularly. I cringed, imagining a life of passionless sex and couldn’t do it. No, Commander Killian was not the man for me.

“You should not be so picky, Isolde. You know the male population is dwindling under the vampires. Soon you’ll have even fewer men to choose from.”

“Who says I have to choose?”

Father had not told me I had to marry. There were no political alliances to create, because the houses were united in their determination to defeat the Blood King and had been since the rise of the vampires…until recently. Until my father decided to submit to him. Now, we’d been ostracized. If I hadn’t made a suitable bride before, I certainly wouldn’t now, though I had a feeling more kingdoms would soon join my father in his decision to choose the lives of their people over the alternative.

“Every respectable lady marries, Isolde.”

“Nadia, we both know I am not respectable.”

“You could pretend,” she shot back. “You are a princess, blessed by the goddess, and yet you make a mockery of everything she has given you.”

My face grew flushed with anger at Nadia’s words, and I rose to my feet. If she had been anyone else in my service, I would have dismissed her. But I knew Nadia. She was devoutly religious and dedicated to Asha—she had her own reasons for her beliefs, just as I had mine. I also knew she meant well despite herself, but that did not mean I shared her views. Even if Cordova had not been cursed with monsters, I could never show loyalty to the two goddesses who had taken my mother before I even had the chance to know her.

I was surprised at how calm I sounded when I spoke.

“The day Asha rids the world of the vampires is the day I honor her blessings, Nadia. Until then, I can only be who I am.”

She sighed, not in disappointment but in acceptance—her job was doomed from the beginning. She was supposed to raise me to be prim and proper, a lady who would eventually become queen of Lara. What she’d gotten instead was me. I wasn’t sure what I was yet. Untamed, wild, spirited—they were all words that had been used to describe me. Whatever I was, it did not fit a mold. But I did not think that made me a bad princess or that it would make me a bad queen. What it made me was someone who was willing to rule without a king, and that was something I wasn’t sure this world was prepared for.

“Well,” said Nadia. “If you must be who you are, the least we can do is have you look like a princess. What did you do to your dress?”

I let my eyes drop to my chest. In my frustration, I’d forgotten it had been ruined.

“Oh. I encountered a strzyga on my return from the border.”

I saw no need to lie about that. We’d all been taught to fight, having been born in the Dark Era. It was a skill as necessary as learning to walk.

“If you had stayed with Commander Killian, you would not have had to fight.”

“I like fighting,” I argued.

Nadia’s eyes narrowed on my ruined bodice, and I knew she was connecting the dots—shredded, bloodied dress but no visible wounds.

“Besides, it barely brushed me,” I said quickly. “The blood is his. You know what happens when you hit a vein.”

Nadia shook her head and pointed toward my washroom. “Bath. Now.”

I obeyed quickly, happy to scrub away this day. Maybe I would get lucky and the water would quench the fire raging inside before it turned my bones to dust.





Three


An hour later, I was ready to present to my father. I let Nadia choose my dress, a rarity, and I think in her excitement, she forgot the occasion, because she chose my favorite gown—a cerulean silk with pearl embellishments that ignited like fire against my brown skin. The neckline was square and low, and my breasts pillowed at the very top.

Nadia clicked her tongue, a sign of her disapproval.

“Too much bread,” she said as she attempted—and failed—to force my neckline higher.

“If you think to deter me, you won’t.”

Nadia commented on my weight because it was another part of me that did not fit the mold. My breasts were big, my hips wide. One of my thighs was probably the size of her waist. I didn’t really care though. I was fit, and I could fight. That was more than I could say for her, a nursemaid who had failed to turn me into a docile princess.

Nadia drew my hair over my shoulders, arranging my thick, dark waves to hide the swell of my breasts. When she was finished, I promptly slipped it back.

“Can I resign?” she asked as she retrieved a pearl tiara from the wooden chest at the end of my bed. I did not own many headpieces, because what I had had belonged to my mother, and many came from her native home on the Atoll of Nalani. Her people were islanders. They were mariners, weavers, and horticulturalists, hence my mother’s love for gardening.

I laughed. “And do what with your time? Stitch cushions?”

“Read, you insolent child,” Nadia snapped, but her response was playful and not at all filled with the tension of our earlier exchange.

“I am far from a child, Nadia.”

“You are a child until you marry,” she said.

I rolled my eyes and smoothed my dress, studying myself in the mirror. All my life, I’d been told that I looked like my mother. As much as I longed to hear that, the compliment also left me feeling like someone had gouged out my heart. It was a reminder of her long absence from my life and the sacrifice she had made so that I could live.