King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(80)

It was an alp, no doubt drawn to us because of Shadow, who sensed the danger.

“Isolde,” Adrian said. “Take the reins and go back to the castle.”

I did as he instructed, and he slid off Shadow’s back, landing soundlessly on the ground. Adrian took a few steps toward the monster, but the creature did not take its eyes off me.

“This will not end well for you,” Adrian said, drawing his blade.

The alp hissed, wiggling its sharp claws, and without so much as a warning, it launched itself at me.

Shadow bucked, neighing wildly before darting into the darkness of the trees, his fear keeping him moving forward. All the while, branches whipped my face, arms, and legs. I pressed my thighs into his side and pulled the reins, but nothing seemed to slow him down, so I dropped one rein and gripped the other in my hands, pulling it toward my hip. Just as Shadow started to slow, he bucked, and as I hit the ground, he darted away. The impact of my fall stole my breath, and I lay there for a moment, fighting dizziness and a sudden pain in my ribs, until I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

I rolled and looked up into the face of the ginger-haired woman whom I’d seen in the reflection of the window and the hall of mirrors.

“It’s you,” I said, choking on a painful breath as I rose to my feet. “You’re Ravena, aren’t you?”

I kept one hand around my waist, but I was already thinking of how I might bring her down. I only had my knives, which meant I’d need to get close to her—too close.

“Clever little bird,” she said. “Though you always were.”

My brows furrowed, confused by her words.

Her eyes narrowed, and it made her look critical and cold.

“So it hasn’t happened yet.”

She spoke more to herself than me. Still, I could not help asking, “What are you talking about?”

“Adrian,” she said. “He has yet to partake of your blood.”

I did not answer her, though I wondered what that had to do with her. But it wasn’t a question I was willing to ask her. She was a different kind of enemy, and I felt like any information she might glean from me would lead to devastation.

Then she laughed.

“It is good that you have not changed much,” she said. “Same stubborn countenance, same obvious weaknesses.”

“What do you know about my weaknesses?” I asked, and as she answered, I worked to free one of the blades at my wrist. I’d prefer to attack her from a distance, uncertain of what kind of harm she might inflict once she had her hands on me.

“I know a lot about you, Issi,” she said, and I flinched at her words. “Tell me how conflicted you are between the love you have for your father and the love you have for Adrian.”

Once again, I did not speak, and as the knife came free into my palm, it bit into my skin.

Fuck.

I flinched, and Ravena’s eyes shifted to my hand. A cruel smile spread across her face.

“Oh good,” she said. “You are armed. You’ll need it.”

I reared back and threw my blade. It cut through the air toward her, but just as it was about to hit its mark—the very center of her chest—she vanished, and in her place was a familiar face, a noblesse.

“Ciro,” I breathed his name in shock as the knife lodged in his chest. Where had he come from? I thought he was still in Zenovia, but I soon noticed something was wrong. The noblesse was disheveled and dirty, and his mouth, chin, and the front of his robes were covered in thick, crimson blood. He had been feeding.

“Ciro,” I said his name again as he stared, motionless, at the blade jutting from his chest.

My voice drew his gaze, and I wished I’d stayed silent.

As soon as his eyes met mine, I knew I was in trouble. He squatted on the ground and then lunged.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He had been possessed by the mist. I was certain of it.

I managed to dodge his attack, only to feel his clawed hands grip the back of my neck as he twisted to reach for me, and his touched burned. There was nothing I could do against his sheer strength. He lifted me up and tossed me. I landed on the ground, my back cracking against a tree.

I groaned, already feeling tears stain my cheeks. I’d never felt such pain, and yet I moved. I had no choice. I rolled onto my hands and knees, and as I got to my feet, Ciro gripped my throat, lifting me off the ground. Though his touch was like fire and my vision blurred, I still managed to shove my remaining blade into his neck. I tried to cut through the bone and sever his head, but he released me too soon, and I fell to the ground once more, choking and gagging.

I drew in ragged breaths and stood once more, shaking. I watched as Ciro now pulled the blade from his chest. I guess I’d taught whatever possessed him how to use a weapon, and as his dead eyes met mine, he lifted the knife, but before he could strike a fatal blow, something swooped down between us—a bird that transformed into a person.

“Sorin,” I breathed as the vampire manifested, his back to me. All I saw were his powerful muscles working as he swung his blade and beheaded the noblesse who had nearly killed me. As Ciro’s body fell to the ground, my legs gave out.

“No, you don’t,” Sorin said, catching me before I hit.

I stared up at his face, but the dizziness forced me to close my eyes.

I groaned.

“Please don’t tell me you can transform into an owl,” I said.