King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(83)

Adrian stiffened. “And you believe this?”

“You do not get to ask me what I believe or do not believe at this point, Your Majesty. You get to explain. Now.”

Asking for an explanation did not mean I did not trust him, but I deserved one all the same. Especially considering all he’d kept from me. He stared at me for a long moment, and I wondered if he was reading my mind. Were my emotions strong enough? Were they too chaotic for him to decide what to focus on? After a moment, he moved from behind the table, and on his way past me, he said, “I will do more than explain.”

He strolled out of the council room, shoving the doors open with a loud bang. I followed, unflinching, noting his stiff shoulders and clenched hands.

“Daroc, I require your assistance,” he said without halting his stride. His second-in-command had waited outside the room, and I wondered if he’d been eavesdropping. He scrambled after us, glancing at me.

Adrian moved so quick, I could barely keep up. His people—those I’d had to command to get out of my way earlier—moved to the side for him, and I did not know if it was out of fear or respect. Either way, it stung in a way that made me want to incinerate this whole castle.

As we approached his chambers, Adrian ordered Daroc to remain stationed outside while he flung open the doors.

“Get up!” he snapped as he entered. I followed behind him and watched as Safira scrambled to her feet, dragging Adrian’s sheet with her as she held it to her chest.

“My lord—I only thought—”

“Silence,” he commanded, and her mouth shut, her face paled.

Adrian turned to me then and held out his hand. It took me only a second to accept.

“I’ve been informed that you are suggesting I’ve been disloyal to my wife,” Adrian said.

Safira gave a nervous laugh. “Her Majesty misunderstood. I was only speaking of our past—”

I stiffened, angered by her suggestion that this was just a misunderstanding. But Adrian squeezed my hand, and the movement was strangely reassuring. It told me he believed me. A little of my anger receded.

“Are you saying my wife is a liar?” Adrian asked. Even I was unsettled by the tone of his voice.

Safira’s eyes widened.

“Of course not, Your Majesty. I am saying this has all really been greatly exaggerated.”

“I see. If that is the case, you will think my punishment is most severe. Daroc,” Adrian called, and the commander entered. “Escort Safira to the dungeons.”

Safira backed away, bumping into the wall as Daroc approached.

“Adrian, please!” she begged.

“It’s only a short while. Why not one day for every night you claimed to sleep with me?”

Daroc yanked the sheet from her hands and grasped her upper arm, dragging her from the room, naked.

“I did not mean any harm,” she said, struggling against Daroc’s hold. “I beg you.” Neither one of us spoke as she was taken, the doors closing on her final, desperate cry. “You can’t do this!”

Adrian turned toward me. “Are you reassured by my fidelity?” he asked.

A blush warmed my cheeks. I felt silly for needing this comfort and yet more confident than I’d ever been in his loyalty to me.

“I am sorry that I needed it,” I said. “I suppose that’s another way I am not acting as a queen, but it seems that everyone in this castle wishes to remind me I was not your first and not sufficient enough to be your last.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Adrian said, and he tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “I did not intend for you to wake alone.”

I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. “It was selfish,” I said. “Of course, you have more important—”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he said and brushed his thumb along my lips, sending a shiver of arousal through me. We had been distant for four days, and the whole time, I’d been desperate for him. I only let myself fully acknowledge it now—the way I had wanted him, his body, his reassurance, his mind.

He stared at me with a soft admiration in his eyes. “Need something, Sparrow?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Can you not read minds?” I asked quietly.

“That’s not how this works,” he said and backed away, sitting in the chair near his desk.

I wanted to chase his warmth, but I stayed where I was, demanding, “What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Take what you want.”

My body literally quaked. I clenched and unclenched my fists.

“I can’t fuck you fully clothed.”

“Debatable,” he said, and a cool smile spread across his lips.

“Sometimes I really do hate you,” I said.

“Only sometimes?” he asked, voice quiet, and then he tilted his head to the side. “And right now? Do you hate me?”

I slipped out of my robe and pulled my shift over my head, standing naked before him. His eyes gleamed, but he did not move to touch me.

“No,” I answered.

My hands came down upon his shoulders, and I straddled him, taking his mouth against mine. My body was suddenly flooded with feeling. It was a rush that filled every vein and every nerve. My hands wound into his hair, and I ground against his length, buried beneath layers of clothing.