King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(77)

He raised his brow and spoke slowly, deliberately. “Are you allied with your husband, Queen Isolde?”

“What are you suggesting?”

He shrugged. “It is no secret you two are enemies. Unless, of course, you have developed a fondness toward him.”

“Do you have a purpose, Noblesse?” I asked, growing impatient and far too uncomfortable.

“I merely wish to caution you about the crimson mist,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

He stared, pointedly, and said, “Curious that the mist came so shortly after your marriage. If I were you, I would be wary. Perhaps it is Adrian’s way of endearing himself to you.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Well, what better to gain the trust of your enemy than saving her people?”

I started to protest that the crimson mist would only result in my greater hatred for him, but I considered that Gesalac was right. The mist had endeared Adrian to me because of his actions following the discovery at Vaida. He had sent Gavriel, Yeva, and Ciprian to Castle Fiora, and after my people had attempted their revolt, he sent even more soldiers. Still, I did not wish for Gesalac to know that I was considering his words.

“You make a bold claim, Noblesse,” I said.

He shrugged. “We are not aware of the breadth of Adrian’s powers. Who is to say he is not responsible?”

I stared at the man, and though I did not trust him, I wondered if what he was saying had some truth.

“There you are,” Sorin said. “I thought I saw you sneaking around.”

Gesalac turned, stepping out of my path as Sorin approached. His handsome face was alight with amusement, but I sensed tension in the air between us.

“Noblesse Gesalac, I’ll take it from here.”

Gesalac looked from Sorin to me as if he wished to protest, but at last, he bowed, adding before he left, “Careful of where you wander, my queen.”

I watched until he had disappeared around the corner.

“By the goddess, I hate that man,” Sorin said.

I looked at the vampire. “Where have you been?”

He held up as hands as if to ward off my demand.

“Easy,” he said. “I’ve been busy. Adrian has me on the hunt.”

On the hunt?

“Have you been searching for Ravena?”

“I have, but I lose every trail,” he said. “It’s like she’s disappearing into thin air.”

I raised a brow. “Is that your special power? Tracking?”

“Something like that,” he said with a chuckle. “What are you doing out of your rooms?”

“I was heading to the library,” I said. “I guess I got lost.”

“Did you ever,” he said, grinning, his dimples deepening. I liked Sorin’s smile. “Come. I’ll take you.”

I felt far more comfortable with Sorin and accepted his escort.

“How did you know where to find me?” I asked.

“Does the word tracker mean nothing to you?”

I glared at him, and he grinned.

“I saw you sprint down the hall,” he said. “You’re lucky I distracted Daroc, or you’d be back in your rooms right now.”

“Were you…in trouble?” I asked.

“Yes, and not in the good way.” As he spoke, his tone shifted, and I heard a note of frustration in his voice.

“What did you do?” I asked as we turned a corner, finding the familiar ebony doors of the library at the end of the hallway.

“It’s what I didn’t do,” Sorin said, coming to a stop. “Or rather that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.”

Sorin did not offer any more of an explanation than that, and I thought perhaps it was because he was embarrassed.

I looked at the doors.

“Do you…want to come inside?”

He grinned. “No thanks, my queen. I don’t read.”

I raised a brow.

“Kidding,” he said. “I have a witch to hunt.”

Before he left, I called to him. “Sorin.”

He halted and faced me.

“If you find anything on Ravena, I want to know.”

“I’m sure Adrian will tell you.”

“I asked you,” I said.

He bowed his head. “Of course, my queen.”

I slipped inside the library, lit with low, amber flame.

I was not completely ready to return to the great room where most of my research still waited. Instead, I made my way to the third floor where the histories of the world were shelved. I touched the spines of embossed books, reading the carefully painted titles. There were several volumes of The History of Cordova, one for each year since its incarnation by the goddess Asha.

I was about to choose a book on the Burning when I noticed a symbol on the spine of a different book. It was the same twelve-spoked wheel I’d spotted in the paintings of the witches, and it was titled High Coven. I took the book from the shelf, and when I opened it, I found that the middle had been carved out, and inside was a knife.

Strange, I thought, taking the blade in hand. There was nothing extraordinary about it. In fact, it seemed crudely made; the blade itself was crooked, the handle too small, and yet it was heavy. It would make for an awkward weapon, and I wondered why it was hidden here.