Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(17)

There was a knock at my door, and before I could speak, Ana entered. Though pale, her cheeks were flushed, and she looked frustrated. As Adrian’s cousin, she shared his features—pale hair and skin and the same eye shape—though their coloring, while striking, was different. Ana’s eyes blazed green and looked hard at me as I sat in the rapidly cooling water.

“Gavriel tells me you are injured,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. It was not as if I were trying to hide it.

Ana crossed the room, her eyes falling to my arm.

“You were bitten,” she said and fell to her knees beside me, demanding, “Why did you not say anything?”

I stiffened, preparing for her to touch my arm, but she didn’t. She only stared.

“We both know there is nothing you can do,” I said, and Ana met my gaze. Perhaps that was why she was angry, because she had no control here.

She pressed her hand to my forehead.

“You are feverish,” she said and then rose to her feet. As she did, she gave a sharp inhale, and I knew she had caught sight of my back. “You must let me treat you,” she said. “Let me do something until Adrian arrives.”

“Do whatever you wish,” I said. “But I will greet Adrian at the gates.”

“He will be furious,” she said.

“He always is,” I said, and she shook her head.

“You have never seen his fury,” she said.

I rose from the bath and dried off, lying naked on the bed, back exposed, my arm extended to the side. I tried to prepare for the pain of her treatment but could not stop from curling into myself when she began her work, starting with the medicine she poured on my arm and back. The odor was sharp and foul, and I groaned, burying my face in the covers. After, she smoothed something thick over each wound and wrapped them.

When she was finished, she pressed her hand to my forehead again. I avoided her gaze, not wishing to see her concern. As she cleaned her hands on her dress, she spoke.

“I do not know that anything I have done will slow the infection,” she said. “We will have to hope Adrian can.” Ana left with instructions to wear something loose. “And take off the binding as soon as you are able.”

Outside my robe, I only had one loose gown and it was white. The neckline hung off my shoulders, embellished with crystals. The sleeves were like wings, covering my arms and the bite, which had gone numb since Ana’s treatment. Once I was dressed, I headed downstairs to the great hall where the wounded had been taken. Ana had begun her work and moved from patient to patient.

They lay beside one another, row upon row, all in various states of unease. Some moaned in pain, others were unconscious, and all the wounds were horrific. I paused before one, a young boy who writhed on the floor, his face swollen and red with the bite of an aufhocker. The woman beside him was still, though breathing, her shoulder mangled, but I could not tell if it was from teeth or claws. A man sat propped against the wall with his bloodied leg stretched out, a thick flap of skin and muscle splayed open on the floor.

Finally, I made my way over to Ana, who knelt beside a child, prodding a bite that looked a lot like mine. After a moment, she sighed and rose to her feet, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Most will not survive this,” she said.

I knew what she meant. Those with bites would have to be executed. I looked back at the bodies—so many bodies—lining the floor of the hall.

“How will you do it?” I asked, quiet.

“Poison,” she said and looked at me. “I will give them poison.”

“Is that truly merciful?” I asked.

“It is better than burning them alive,” she said.

Just then, a horn blasted from outside.

“Adrian,” I breathed and ran from the palace, halting when I saw my husband burst into the courtyard mounted on Shadow. I knew by the violence in his eyes that he had seen the carnage in Cel Ceredi, and I felt his relief shudder through my own body when he finally met my gaze. He dismounted his horse and strode toward me with determined steps, closing the distance between us.

He did not speak as he curled an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. I swallowed the pain ricocheting through my body as he kissed me, his tongue sliding across my mouth, but when he found my teeth clenched, he pulled away, studying me. Then he pressed a hand against my skin, eyes ablaze.

“You’re on fire.”

His grip on me tightened and my body went rigid, my fists clenching against his chest. He seemed to realize that his hold was the source of my discomfort and released me.

“What happened?” he demanded, but this was not the place to reveal my injuries, especially the bite—not with the crowd who had gathered around to witness Adrian’s return.

“Later, Adrian,” I said and leaned forward, pressing my lips to his—a soft kiss, a promise. As I pulled away, I asked, “Who have you brought me?”

Adrian studied me and then brushed his thumb over my cheek.

“I have brought you a pig to slaughter,” he said and stepped away, turning as Daroc and Sorin led a prisoner forward. His hands were bound behind his back, and yet I knew if he wanted, he could break those bonds, though the move would be futile given that his head was enclosed in an iron cage. It was eyeless and the weight of it kept his chin to his chest.