King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(76)

Then I caught sight of Adrian, who stood with Safira on his arm.

A rush of jealousy thickened the blood in my veins. Had he sought his vassal since I’d sent him away? Had he partaken of her blood against my wishes? There was an undercurrent to my jealousy, a strange feeling that held on to my heart. I did not want to put a name to it, because acknowledging that this…hurt…was ridiculous. How could I, a human princess of the Nine Houses, feel hurt that a vampire would betray me?

I ground my teeth and tamped down the pain. I would not let him have that kind of control over me. I rose to my feet, renewed in my mission to explore the library and discover more from Adrian’s past. I descended the stairs, racing into the adjoining corridor before anyone spotted me from the open doors, except that just as I was about to round the corner, I caught sight of Daroc and Sorin. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but neither one of them looked pleased. Daroc leaned close, a finger pointed in Sorin’s face, whose jaw was set so tight, I could see it popping. Whatever words were being exchanged, I could not hear them, but I sensed I had stumbled into a fight.

I took my chance and darted across the hall as I tried to retrace the path I’d taken with Miha earlier, but the hallways branched off in so many directions, I was not exactly sure I’d taken the right way. I got halfway down one hall and turned around, feeling as though I’d gone the wrong direction.

The next route I took seemed even more wrong. The walls were intermittently recessed, and while I’d originally thought I was alone, I soon found out I was not and that some of the alcoves were occupied. A man had a woman pressed against the wall. His hand was around her neck, his mouth there too. Blood dripped down her skin. I watched her for a moment—eyes closed, lips parted, body arched into his—she was lost. Farther down, a woman openly fucked another with her fingers. I was not appalled so much as uncomfortable. What was the purpose of this exhibitionism? Were others meant to watch or mind their business?

I chose the latter, quickly turning another corner only to pause and stare at a series of portraits. They were paintings of beautiful women dressed in black. There was an insignia on their breasts, a twelve-spoked wheel, crowned with a different image. As I studied each portrait, I noticed the wheel turned, which meant a different symbol crowned each wheel.

This was High Coven, I realized, and the symbols communicated their power.

I lingered before each picture longer than I should have, given that Adrian had advised me not to leave my rooms, but they made me curious. Some were young, others were old, and most were in-between. Some looked like me, and I wondered if their ancestors were islanders. Others were pale, like mountain folk, but the woman who drew my gaze was the one whose portrait hung at the very end of the hallway where the corridor split in two. I recognized her because of her eyes—Yesenia.

She had strange-colored eyes, a shade that appeared both violet and blue. They were fringed with thick lashes that cast a shadow upon her cheekbones. Her hair was thick and dark, pinned back, which only served to sharpen the structure of her face. Her lips hinted at a smile, and her skin was a warm brown that made me think she’d lived beneath the sun. She was beautiful, her expression peaceful. It was a feeling I could relate to, a feeling I wanted to recapture—one that I had known before I’d discovered this world was so harsh.

Again, my eyes fell to the symbol on her robes. The symbol that topped her wheel was an eye, the symbol for prophecy. Had she known her life would end in smoke and flame? What a horrible gift, to know one’s death.

I turned, eyes sweeping the walls again, recalling the names I’d learned earlier. I had never truly seen the members of High Coven as people, but here they were—beautiful and serene and real, not at all violent or wild as I had imagined. They were…like me.

“I see you have found the portraits of High Coven,” a voice said.

I pivoted to find Gesalac watching from a distance, and I shuddered, wondering how long he had been there before he’d spoken. I turned fully, staring, hoping he would not linger. Had he hoped to corner me?

After a moment, he bowed his head.

“Queen Isolde,” he said, dark eyes meeting mine once again. “It is late to be outside your chamber.”

“And yet the halls are full of people,” I said.

“Vampires,” he corrected. Predators, I thought he might be saying.

“Who have learned the consequences of not leaving me alone.”

I expected Gesalac to show his anger, but his expression remained the same, though that wasn’t much better.

“Perhaps I can help you find what you are looking for,” he offered, and I hesitated, unsure of his motives.

“I can find my own way.”

“I understand your fear—”

“I am not afraid of you,” I said. “But I do not trust you.”

“Likewise, and yet my king killed one of his own for you, a mortal woman he met a week ago. It is any wonder I am angry that my son is dead?”

“Perhaps you should have taught him no means no, but I see where he inherited his inability to listen.”

Gesalac’s mouth hardened into a thin line.

“I do not wish to be enemies, Queen Isolde,” he said. “I rather hoped we could be allies.”

“If you are allied with my husband, you are allied with me.”

Though I was not so certain he was.