King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(94)

“That monster is in love with you.”

“What?” My breath rushed out of me at his observation. The notion of love between Adrian and me was ridiculous, especially given what I had just learned about Yesenia. I was surprised by how his suggestion hurt.

“Isolde…”

“Commander—”

“Have you even tried to kill him since leaving Lara?”

“What exactly do you want from me?” I asked him. “I married him to protect our people—people who later tried to kill me. I stabbed him twice. I—”

I’d slept with him. I’d found comfort in him. I’d hurt for him.

“You love him,” Killian said, and he stared at me the way he stared at Adrian.

I shook my head. “You wouldn’t know love if it looked you in the face, Killian.”

“I thought I did,” he said.

“And you were wrong.”

I moved passed him and entered the great hall again. My gaze shifted over the crowd and landed once again on Adrian, who sat reclined, one hand lifted to his mouth as he watched me. I stared at him, at the man who had loved Yesenia, the man who had killed a king for her, conquered a kingdom for her.

She had never really died, and I had never really been his queen, his match, or his equal.

Suddenly, the sound of drums pulsed, nearly vibrating the ground. I turned, looking around me, only to find a procession of women dressed in shimmery, beaded scarves that were so translucent, I could see their breasts and the curls at the apexes of their thighs, their hair threaded through with flowers. They spun and twirled at first through the whole crowd, but then they circled me, and the woman at the start of the line placed a floral crown upon my head while another took my hands, sweeping me into their parade. At first, I resisted as I was pushed and touched, but soon I gave in to the movements, following the beat of the drums and the thud of the dancers’ feet. I let them spin me and twirl me. It was not violent or angry; it was gentle and jovial.

Before I knew it, we were outside, dancing before the large fire at the center of the courtyard, and the heat from it made me sweat. I let my hands rise into the air, and I spun beneath the starry sky while people around me laughed and danced and kissed and fucked. And I reveled in the frenzy, desperate to forget everything about Adrian and my father and my future, until the first scream broke out.

I halted in my rhythm. My euphoria was suddenly drowned in fear as the courtyard filled with a line of knights from another time. Between each pair was a woman. The first had dark hair, and somehow, I knew that her cheeks were usually rosy and that her eyes were bright blue, but right now she was pale, and there was no light in her eyes.

Her hands were tied behind her back, and the soldiers gripped her upper arms, the indentations of their fingers making her skin turn white. They only released her when they pushed her into the fire.

“Evanora!” I screamed, and I struggled but found I too was bound.

She hit the wooden pyre, and her horrifying screams filled the air. She thrashed and the wood collapsed, sparks exploding as she rolled, a ball of flame that parted the crowd until she came to a stop, dead.

The display did not stop the sequence.

The next woman was Odessa. She tried to fight, but she was subdued with a crack to the skull and tossed into the flame. She did not move but wilted there on the pyre.

I did not stop screaming, even as my voice broke and my throat bled. I screamed as my coven, my sisters, these women whose souls spoke to mine, died before my eyes. I did not know how long it lasted, but the fire began to lose its potency, and over the dying flames, I saw a set of dark eyes—King Dragos. Beside him was the woman whose magic had haunted me since Lara, Ravena, her unmistakable ginger hair even more radiant in the firelight.

When the king met my gaze, he smiled.

“Bring him,” the king ordered, and my eyes shifted to a familiar face framed with white-gold hair.

“Adrian.” His name rasped from my mouth, and my heart beat harder in my chest. “Adrian!”

He was brought to his knees before me, and I saw that his head was bleeding, his lips were cracked, and bruises bloomed across his cheek.

“Yesenia!” He looked up from the ground, desperate.

“Adrian,” I repeated his name, and for the first time tonight, I felt a sense of calm wash over me that came from a simple piece of knowledge—he would live.

He would live, and he would damn the world.

Dragos’s voice echoed in the courtyard.

“To think my greatest knight would choose a witch over his kingdom. Well, tonight, you will watch her burn. Tomorrow, you will collect her ashes. Light it.”

“Yesenia!” Adrian struggled against the guards, but they beat him until he could barely rise to his knees.

As the soldiers moved forward to place torches at my feet and the smoke rose to fill my vision and my throat, I spoke. “Do not fight, my love,” I said. “You are destined for this world.”

“Yesenia,” Adrian whispered, then begged. “Please. Please. Please.”

I shook my head and spoke words that ripped my heart in two. “All the stars in the sky are not as bright as my love for you.”

And as the flames lapped at my skin, I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw tight. I would not give Dragos the satisfaction of my screams.

At the end, I felt no pain.