King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(86)

But as she rose to her feet, there was a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting a visitor?” Vesna asked.

I shook my head, but then the door opened, and Adrian filled the doorway, a dark shadow that cut through the firelight. Our contrasts were not lost on me. He embodied everything I’d imagined the Blood King to be—a looming darkness, both beautiful and dreadful. I stared at him, and my chest expanded, full of a type of anxiety I did not want to admit. It was the anticipation of his touch, of the words he would whisper in my ear later when we were alone.

“My king,” Violeta and Vesna said in unison.

“I wanted a moment with my queen,” he said.

“Of course,” Violeta said. “We were just leaving.”

She reached for Vesna’s arm, looping it through her own as they left, and I couldn’t help smiling at how comfortable the woman had grown in her time as my lady-in-waiting.

Adrian’s eyes darkened as the door closed.

“Sparrow,” he said, his voice warming the very bottom of my stomach. He took my hand in his and brushed his lips along my fingers. “You look beautiful.”

“You outdid yourself on the gowns,” I said. “I have never had such beautiful pieces.”

“I only wish to spoil you,” he said. “Though you look beautiful in any form—covered in blood or writhing beneath me.”

I hated blushing, and here, once again, I was. I swallowed thickly. “How is Ana?”

Adrian’s expression changed, growing serious. “Unwell,” he said. “But she will be in attendance tonight. She needs the distraction.”

My chest tightened.

“Violeta said we were running late. If we linger here too long, we will be very late.”

Adrian raised a brow. “Are you eager to be rid of me, my queen?”

“N-no. I mean…” I stumbled across my words, irritated by how flustered I felt. It was made worse by how Adrian smiled at me—kind and gentle. It made his eyes crinkle at the sides, and I felt like I’d been knocked in the chest. I cleared my throat. “You wanted a moment with me?”

“I want you for lifetimes,” he said, brushing his knuckles along my cheek. “But I shall be content with now.”

I held my breath until he dropped his hand and stepped away. “I want to show you something. Will you come?”

“Of course,” I said and followed him out of my room, into the corridor. He took my hand, lacing our fingers. It was different from how we usually walked, and part of me worried that if anyone from home saw this—if my father witnessed us—he would be so disappointed.

Adrian took me into the east wing. It was the tallest part of the castle and happened to also be where the library was located, but we passed those doors, heading down darkened hallways with gilded accents, up flights of stairs until we came to the roof.

Atop the castle, the wind gusted around me. We were up so high, I felt as though I could reach out and touch the clouds, which were rimmed in a red light, casting the whole of Revekka in a strange, crimson-tinged darkness that was both beautiful and haunting. From here, the horizon seemed to stretch for miles in all directions—beyond Cel Ceredi and the Starless Forest to the Golden Sea.

“To the edge,” he said, and I hesitated. I wasn’t completely sure why, perhaps because there was no rail to hold on to against the wind. Adrian looked down at me and frowned. “I won’t let you fall.”

I wondered if he took my wavering as a sign that I did not trust him.

But that brought up another thought that was far more disconcerting to me. When had I grown to trust Adrian Aleksandr Vasiliev?

I gripped his arm as we neared the edge, and I looked down over our kingdom, where hundreds of fires burned across the land. I had no idea there were so many. It looked so ominous, as if we were on the cusp of battle and the fires were a mark of how outnumbered we truly were.

“The night High Coven was murdered, the world looked just like this,” Adrian said.

I looked at him as he watched the flames consume the night. His eyes looked black, his face harsh. He seemed so cold, the complete opposite of how he had appeared in my room earlier. Whatever he was thinking about had changed him.

“Why do you do this?” I whispered.

“What?”

“Torture yourself with whatever you are reliving while watching this. Adrian…”

“You asked before what motivates me to conquer the world,” he said and looked at me. “It’s this. Two hundred years ago on this night, I lost everything.”

He gave me nothing else, but I understood it all the same. Whatever had happened the night of the Burning had led to his conquest of my home. Normally, I would ask for more, but even I did not wish for him to continue to experience this—whatever this was. I only knew it was horrifying based on what Lothian and Zann had shared.

“Adrian,” I said and tugged on his hand, guiding him away from the ledge. Inside, the stairwell was just as dark, and before we could descend, he stopped me and pinned me against the wall. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what he intended to do, but then he rested his forehead against mine.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

At least that was what I thought I heard, but those words did not make any sense. I was right here. I did not ask him to repeat himself, and we did not speak as we descended stair after stair.