King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(93)

I supposed that was my power now, and I just had to stay alive long enough to use it.

It was already hot in the room. Perspiration was gathered between my thighs and breasts. It would be an uncomfortable evening in more than one way, I realized as I crested the dais where Adrian waited. His presence was a physical blow. He was dressed in a black tunic over which he wore a fine, black velvet surcoat. He was like the night, and his face was lit like a star, framed in a halo of blond hair.

I held his gaze, and he seemed both sincere and tender. I was torn between letting go of my rage and stabbing him as he greeted me.

“My queen,” he said and held out his hand. I took it, not wishing for him to know that I’d discovered his secret. Not yet. I only thought with relief that I had avoided making a fool of myself. Moments before I’d found Yesenia’s journal, I would have gone to him. I would have told him I was ready to make the world I wanted.

I could still have it, I reminded myself. Adrian was only a vessel through which to achieve my goal.

I shoved my hurt down and lifted my head. I would enjoy this night, and I would be crowned queen tomorrow, and I would seek a way to have my own form of vengeance. And perhaps, in the end, I would rule as I was meant to—alone.

“My king,” I acknowledged curtly.

Adrian raised a brow. “Are you feeling well this evening?”

“Extremely,” I replied, trying to calm myself enough so that he couldn’t read my mind. It was hard to imbue my voice with anything but disdain. I moved past him, headed for the high table where my father stood. Normally, I would have embraced him, kissed his cheek, but tonight, I only greeted him.

“Father,” I said.

“Isolde.” His voice was much softer, as if he wished to say something, but I did not look at him, and I did not even greet Killian, who stood opposite him.

Adrian came to stand beside me, Daroc and Ana on his right. As he sat, the rest of us followed. I reached for my wine, and though I knew it had been tested in the kitchens before it had arrived here at my table, I still hesitated.

“Would you like me to try it?” Adrian asked.

I swallowed, and without me even answering, he sipped.

I could not help watching how the wine stained his lips until he licked it away, and as he set the goblet down before my hand, he said, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I said lightly and swallowed a mouthful.

It was not long after that I began to fan myself. The heat burned my skin.

“Warm, my sweet?” Adrian asked beside me.

Even as I turned toward him, I felt the sweat gathering upon my brow. He appeared unbothered.

“Boiling,” I said.

“Perhaps movement would help,” Adrian suggested. “We could dance.”

“No,” I breathed. “I’d rather not.”

It wasn’t until the words were out of my mouth that I realized how he would take my refusal. He would think I’d declined because my father and Killian were present, when the reality was that I could not face him right now. I could not be that close to him at this very moment. I wanted distance, but I had to remain at the banquet.

We drank and ate and watched the boisterous crowd, who did not change their behavior even in the presence of my father. Vampires fed from their vassals and performed various sexual acts, small fights broke out, and when blood was drawn—by vampire or mortal—there was an even greater struggle to taste it.

“Despicable,” my father muttered under his breath.

“Perhaps you should retire, King Henri, if this is too much for you,” Adrian said.

I did not like sitting between them.

“Is this how you claim to take care of my daughter?” he asked. “Exposing her to this…filth?”

I worried over what Adrian would say. Your daughter is no saint.

“She has a choice, just as you.”

“You make a mockery of the legacy of this castle.”

“And what is that legacy, King Henri? One of mass murder and the persecution of innocents?”

I pushed my chair away from the table and rose, unable to handle being at the center of their conversation and unwilling to mediate.

“Excuse me,” I said and left the great hall.

It was cooler in the corridor, and I stood near the open doors, staring at the fire that roared at the center of the courtyard. It was one that had not been extinguished since the Burning Rites. Women danced around it, flower crowns upon their head. I watched them for a moment, mesmerized by their movements and the shadows they cast. I wondered if they feared the flames like I did.

“Isolde.”

I had not heard anyone approach, and I whirled, my heart in my throat, only to face Killian.

“Apologies, Queen Isolde,” he corrected himself, though it sounded a little sarcastic. “Are you all right?” he asked.

I was suspicious of his question but answered anyway. “I’m fine,” I said. “Did you need something?”

He hesitated, eyes darting to the left before he spoke. “I would like to first apologize for how we parted.”

“But not for what you said?” I asked.

He looked at me, and I felt as though he was asking: Will nothing ever be good enough?

“What are you doing, Isolde?”

My brows lowered, confused by his question. “I don’t know what you mean.”