Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(10)

Frantic, I reached for the dagger at my side just as the creature moved to attack me again. I shoved my blade into its head, right between its eyes.

The hound roared and bit down on my arm. I screamed, but only a shock of pain registered before I drew my second knife from between my breasts and drove into his head once more. This time, the hound groaned, and before it could collapse to the ground, I was thrown back as the second creature rammed into me.

The impact stole my breath, and as I fought to fill my lungs with air, I struggled to my feet and ran. I only made it a few steps before a set of claws bit into my back. I screamed and fell, rolling on to my back in time to watch the aufhocker pounce, claws and fangs bared, when a spear cut through the air and lodged in its eye.

The hound continued its flight through the air and landed near me, dead.

“Are you all right, my queen?”

For a moment, my vision blurred, but I knew Gavriel stood over me.

“Yes,” I said, and I took the hand he offered.

“You should not have come,” he said once I was on my feet.

“I had to,” I said. It was the only response I could offer. Gavriel would not understand why I had to come. I had not wished to be queen so I could sit on a throne. I wished to become queen to protect my people, which meant if they went into battle, I would lead.

“You are mortal,” he said, his voice gentle. “You were not made to fight these monsters.”

I did not speak because I had nothing to say. Sluggishly, I moved to retrieve my blades—each one completely covered in slick blood.

With my daggers sheathed and my sword in hand, I looked to Cel Ceredi and stumbled toward the village. Gavriel followed as the carnage unfolded before us.

Many people lay dead, bodies torn open by teeth and claws. Those who had yet to die and were injured lay screaming and writhing on the ground—some with deep gashes, some with missing limbs. The bodies of several aufhockers lay still upon the ground, and while they appeared motionless, I found myself gripping my blade.

A terrible howl erupted from behind me, and I turned in time to see Isac and two other vampires taking down what seemed to be the final aufhocker. It was shaking its head vigorously, trying desperately—and hopelessly—to dislodge the blade impaling his skull.

With a groan, the creature finally crashed to the ground.

The battle was over.

It was over and I had only managed to kill one monster. The second had almost killed me.

Gavriel was right in a way—I was not made for this world—but neither was he. He had been created. As the pain from my wounds coiled through my body, I thought that perhaps I should be too.





Four





Adrian

I heard the voices even before we entered the Starless Forest.

They were the cries of witches who had been murdered here. They were not always so loud, most whispered in the language of magic, not spells but prayers for peace. Today, they wailed—a keen and haunting refrain.

Something was wrong, something beyond the traitors who roamed my country.

I was not unfamiliar with the feeling, the constant gnawing in my gut. It was a restlessness I felt deep, an ache that had not gone away even with Isolde’s return.

I had never thrived on peace. I was a creature forged by violence, honed by hate.

I wanted blood.

I had always thought that finding my lover—the one who had spurred my desire to conquer the world—would ease this rage. It had proven to be a fire that not even she could quell.

She had only made it worse.

It did not matter that she had returned to me, soft and full and smelling of jasmine. The nightmare of her death clung to me, my constant companion, my greatest fear. It did not matter how many years passed or how much time separated me from the night she died; it would always feel like yesterday. My mouth always tasted of her ashes. The scent of her burning flesh and singed hair undercut every smell I inhaled.

Leaving her behind today only fueled the anger in my blood.

I had no trust that anyone would guard her as I did, but I knew just as well that Isolde would dislike having her freedom impeded. I could not bar her from leaving her room, the castle, or Cel Ceredi without consequences. I had to grant her space and hope her trust extended to no one save me.

We had no one.

Nothing had been more obvious after Ravena’s attack when two of my noblesse and another yet unknown individual among my inner circle betrayed me—betrayed us.

My fingers tightened on Shadow’s reins as I waited, impatient for Sorin and Dracul’s return. They had flown ahead to scout once more. I was certain the traitor noblesse were intent on reaching another kingdom, but escaping the boundaries of Revekka was not so easy with our armies scouting and marching across the land.

“The queen is safe with Tanaka,” Daroc said, guessing my thoughts as he rode beside me.

“My queen would take up a blade before Tanaka could draw enough breath to tell her to hide.”

Tanaka was not a warrior. He never had been. He was a statesman; his eternal love was politics. If anything, Isolde would ensure his safety.

“Miha and Isac are there,” said Daroc. “Gavriel too.”

I clenched my jaw, uncomfortable at the thought of anything happening in my absence, but Isolde had survived despite the odds, fighting vampires, the crimson mist, a witch, even her father.