King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(81)

I heard him laugh, but it was a distant sound, as if he were in a cavern.

“Not an owl, my queen,” he answered quietly. “A falcon.”

I remembered nothing more after that.

*

I woke with my swollen face pressed into the cold, stone floor of a cell.

It took me several moments to gather the strength to lift myself into a sitting position, and even as I did, the ache in my jaw made me light-headed. I wanted to vomit but held it in; opening my mouth would just make everything worse.

I squinted into the darkness and made out the faint, crumpled outline of Adrian.

“No,” I whispered.

He lay on his stomach, hands bound behind his back. He was just out of reach within a cell beside my own. I crawled to him, body shaking, having no energy to expend for breath, much less movement. Still, I managed to reach the bars and used them to pull myself closer, slipping my hand between them. I brushed my fingers over a lock of his hair.

“Adrian.” I whispered his name, broken and full of the blood pooling in my mouth.

He did not wake for a long time, but I sat there and stroked the piece of hair I could reach, and when he finally stirred, I began to cry.

I tried to say his name again, but he stopped me.

“Shh,” he soothed. “I know, my sweet. You cannot help who you are, and I cannot help who I love.”

I jerked awake, inhaling a sharp breath as if I’d just come up for air. My skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, making my shift stick to me. I threw off my blankets and then fell back into my pillow.

“I’m safe,” I told myself. “It was a dream. Just a dream.”

But it had felt so real—the cold, rough stone against my skin, the pain and the thick blood in my mouth, the feel of Adrian’s hair against my bruised fingers.

Even now I could feel the claws of guilt twisting in my chest, because though I did not know how, Adrian had been in that cell because of me.

Now that I was awake, I realized I was also alone.

I sat up again, placing my feet on the floor, taking inventory of my body. I thought I’d bruised my ribs when I’d fallen off Shadow, but I was certain they’d broken when Ciro had thrown me against that tree. Now I felt little pain, just an ache. I touched my neck where the noblesse had gripped me and swallowed without discomfort.

I’d been healed.

I wondered if it had been Adrian’s doing, since Ana used traditional healing methods. And if so, where was he now? What about Ana? I’d at least expected to wake up and find her sitting with me, but perhaps Isla had returned. Had Shadow been found after he’d darted away into the woods?

I had so many questions.

I rose to my feet and pulled on my robe. I tried to force away the hurt I felt at waking alone, at discovering that Sorin was a shape-shifter. Did Adrian not care for me? Did Sorin not trust me? I paced my room, reasoning that it was ridiculous to feel this way. Adrian had not waited for me to wake up because I was fine, and Sorin had no reason to trust me because I did not trust him…did I?

I growled in frustration just as a knock erupted at the door, sending my heart into a frenzy.

Adrian, I thought and raced to the door, only to find Lothian on the other side.

“Are you well, my queen?” he asked, and I knew he’d witnessed Sorin bringing me here.

“I am…as well as can be expected,” I answered. “What can I do for you?”

“I have news about your mother’s homeland,” he said. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” I stepped aside and closed the door quietly behind him. Lothian crossed to the middle of the room, turning to look at me.

“I fear I do not have good news.”

Just tell me, I wanted to yell as a chasm opened in my chest, far larger than the one made by Adrian’s absence.

“Go on,” I implored.

“I could not locate any texts on your mother’s people, mostly because their history is told orally. I thought to reach out to some of the elders there, but—”

“Lothian,” I said. “Get to the point.”

“They’re enslaved. All of them,” he said. “By King Gheroghe of Vela.”





Seventeen


If Lothian said anything after that, I did not hear it.

I felt a surge of adrenaline, and at the same time, I felt sick.

And to think King Gheroghe had been here. He’d attempted to barter with Adrian for immortality—with the promise of my people. I could have killed him then. I could have liberated my people.

My body shook with rage.

Had Adrian known? Had he said nothing?

I turned from Lothian, tore open the door, and ran for Adrian’s quarters.

“Out of my way!” I commanded as I raced down the halls, packed with servants, vampires, and their vassals.

I could not imagine how I looked, but I felt wild and angry, and when I arrived at Adrian’s door, I threw them open, only to find Safira in his bed—one I had yet to occupy.

She was sitting up, naked and bent so that her breasts were peaked. With most of her weight on one arm, she trailed the other along her raised leg. Her golden hair, unbound, teased her arm in gentle waves.

Obviously, she expected another visitor.

“Where is my husband?” I demanded, my fury rocketing.