King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(75)

“Why was Yesenia imprisoned?” I asked.

“She was also said to be a powerful seer, though Dragos did not like what she foretold.”

“What did she foretell?”

“His downfall,” he answered. “Here she is.”

Lothian handed me another sketch, and I was startled both by this woman’s beauty and the lifelike way she was portrayed. She appeared to have dark features and darker skin. Her hair was long and black and her eyes matched, though they gleamed with a liveliness that felt a little unsettling given that this was a drawing made in charcoal.

She did not look evil, and as my eyes shifted back to the depiction of the first night of the Burning, I could only think about the terror she must have felt, watching twelve of her own perish and knowing that was her fate.

I learned more about High Coven. In particular, the names of the other twelve members. Each of them had a strength ranging from Yesenia’s gift of prophecy to manifestation, mediumship, healing, or shapeshifting. There were others too, powers I’d never heard of, like binding, which was the ability to take away someone’s magic, and bilocation, the ability to be in two places at once, and portal magic, the ability to create gateways to other places out of objects or from thin air. In addition to their specialization, each member of High Coven was responsible for their own minor covens.

Among the items Zann had brought were detailed notes from High Coven’s meetings, which itemized the issues they were presented with. In one instance, a terrible plague hit the northern part of Revekka. Ginerva, the healer, put forth a proposal to send her covens into the territory to perform spells to prevent the spread and heal those affected, but before it could even be considered, Yesenia was made to read the timelines and determine if High Coven could even interfere. Some things, it said, were by divine order. After Yesenia approved the measure, the coven set about establishing rules, namely that Odessa, the necromancer, was not allowed to reawaken any of those who had already passed, and Ginerva would be prevented from healing anyone who was fated to die, which required the skills of Yesenia’s coven.

I was beginning to see how they worked to care for their people, and I stayed, continuing to read until my eyes grew weary.

“How often may I return to read?” I asked before departing.

“As often as you wish, my queen,” said Lothian. “This is your library, and I am your librarian.”

“I knew I would not regret dancing with you,” I said, grinning.

“That makes one of us,” Lothian said.

We laughed, and I realized it was one of the few times I’d done so since I’d arrived at the Red Palace.

*

I could not sleep.

As tired as my eyes had been when leaving the library, I was now wide awake—or rather, my body was. I wasn’t sure what it was about this room or this bed or the person I’d become since I’d met Adrian, but I could hardly think about anything other than him. And this time, it wasn’t just thoughts of his body against mine that kept my mind going—it was every subtle nuance of our time together. It was the way he’d said my name, that he’d said my name at all, desperate for me to hear whatever he wasn’t saying. It was the way he trusted me to take on my role as queen without really knowing who I was as a princess or a person.

It was how he kissed me.

Like he possessed a true, unnatural passion for me that I could somehow match, and I did not know why. I reasoned that I felt this way because of all that had transpired since leaving Lara. My people had betrayed me and attempted to overthrow my father, and despite once understanding their fear and anger, the more I learned about the Burning, the less I could excuse their behavior. Not that I’d been able to really forgive them before; they had reduced my sacrifice down to nothing, just as Killian had. Did he fuck you the way you wanted? he’d asked.

Once, I’d felt such shame, but no longer.

I’d made my sacrifice, and now my people would live in a world ruled both by me and Adrian, and I was not sorry for it.

I kicked off the blankets and pulled on my robe. If I couldn’t sleep, I’d return to the library. I cracked the door and peeked into the hallway. The corridor was empty, except for shadows that danced in tandem with the candle flame. After a few seconds passed with no sign of activity, I slipped out the door, tying off my robe.

I paused at the top of the stairs as the sound of revelry reached me. There was singing, strange growls, and moans. The Burning Rites had begun, and it seemed the celebration continued even into the early morning. I took a few steps down and halted, ducking so that I could assess the risk. Below, the tall windows were full of flickering fire that looked more red than orange as it was filtered through the glass. The doors to the front of the castle were wide open, giving me a view of the courtyard where a fire raged and people danced. The air was heavy with the scent of flesh and blood and smoke, tinged with spice and resin.

Even from this distance, I could see bodies before the fire—a woman taking a man into her mouth, a man taking another into his. There were others too, engaging in various sexual acts, and some who embraced in the same manner I’d watched Adrian hold Safira, and I knew they were drinking each other’s blood.

If the act was so sacred, why was it being performed in public, I wondered. Then again, I’d always thought of sex as a private act, and yet among these people, it seemed to be a form of entertainment.