King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(88)

*

It was so hot.

Scorching.

Sweat pooled on every dip of my skin, in every crease. I thrashed, suffocated by it, by the air, heavy with heat.

Hush, my sweet.

A cold hand touched my forehead.

Adrian.

Hold on to me. I will carry you through.

I woke, drenched, my vision blurry. I turned my head and found Adrian watching me.

For a moment, I thought he was angry with me. I’d never seen his face carved quite so severely. My brows lowered over my eyes, and I tried to speak his name, but my tongue felt swollen and sour in my mouth.

“Shh,” he said, leaning forward, and some of that harshness drained from his face. He placed a cool hand upon my forehead. “Drink this.”

He tilted my head, and I drank deeply.

“Not too much,” he said. “You will make yourself sick.”

I sank into the pillows again, my body weak. My eyes felt like lead and closed of their own accord.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I will be here when you wake.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The next time I opened my eyes, I stared back at Ana.

“You are awake,” she said, relief softening her features.

“About time,” I heard Sorin say.

“Careful, she might stab you,” said Isac.

“We are glad to have you back, my queen,” Miha said.

I blinked, attempting to clear my vision and get my bearings. I realized I’d been brought to Adrian’s room. Ana sat nearby while Sorin, Isac, and Miha stood apart near the doors as if guarding the entrance.

“Where is Adrian?” I asked.

“He will return shortly,” Ana interjected quickly. “Let me help you sit up.”

I rose as she stuffed pillows behind my back. I felt dizzy and nauseous, and I recalled how I’d gotten here—someone had poisoned my wine.

“Here, drink this,” Ana said, and I was shocked by my own hesitation. “It’s all right. Look.”

Ana sipped from the container, and when nothing happened, I nodded, and she placed the cup to my lips. It was only water, but as it hit my tongue, I found myself more aware of the metallic taste in my mouth and cringed.

“Was anyone else poisoned?”

“Only your glass,” said Sorin.

So I was the target. I was not surprised.

“We will know more soon, now that you are awake,” said Ana.

“How long have I been…”

“Three days,” Ana said and then she added, hesitantly, “No one’s left the banquet hall since Adrian brought you here. Everyone from guards to the noblesse have been locked inside.”

Three days?

“What?”

Just then, the door opened, and Adrian appeared, his eyes immediately finding mine. I could not place the expression on his face. It was a harrowing mix of anger and worry and relief, and as he strode toward me, I found myself sitting up higher, wishing to reach for him. Only he bent to me and pressed his lips to my forehead.

“My queen,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Like death,” I said.

Adrian frowned but said nothing, and I wondered what words he would say if he chose to speak at this very moment, because the pain and fear written upon his face shocked me.

“Adrian?” I whispered.

“Do you think you are well enough to stand?” he asked.

I frowned. “I…think so.”

“We must return to the banquet hall,” he said.

My eyes widened. “Now? Why?”

“Because our people must know you are well,” he said.

“How do you know they want me alive?”

“Because I want you alive, and my people want what I want,” he said. “And those who do not will be eliminated.”

I did not doubt his words, but I worried Adrian would make more enemies by defending me. Ana drew the blankets away, and I pushed off the bed, rising to my shaky feet. I was dressed only in a shift, but Ana helped me into a patterned robe that belonged to Adrian. He held me tightly, an arm around my waist.

“Lean on me until we are in the great hall. Once we are inside, I need you to hold your head high for as long as possible. Can you do that?”

I nodded. I knew what he was doing—showing these people I could not be defeated, that I was stronger than the poison in my veins.

We returned to the great hall. Ana walked beside me while Daroc and Sorin led, and Isac and Miha were at our back. When the doors were opened, I pulled away from Adrian and instead held his hand, my grasp tight. My legs still trembled, and the stench of urine and feces was so strong, I almost vomited, but I managed to walk the path with him, passing the gaunt faces of the men and women who had been so jovial three nights prior. They were almost phantoms of themselves. Some had shed their luxurious petticoats and jackets, now wearing the bare minimum in the hot room. Others were covered in blood, a mark that vampires at least had fed while trapped.

Adrian took me to his throne, and I sat without his help, trying not to sag, though I desperately wanted to lie down once more. Despite this, I stayed upright and watched the crowd, wondering who among these people had seen fit to murder me.

Adrian turned and drew his sword.

I realized I had only seen him fight a handful of times—once against my own people and once when he beheaded Zakharov. I wasn’t sure why this felt different. Perhaps it was the way he moved—with a predatory purpose that communicated just how angry and betrayed he felt.