Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(27)

“Are you disgusted with me?” he asked, and though he tried, it was getting harder for him to hide his disappointment.

“No,” I said. “I just cannot imagine it…what it will be like.”

What it would taste like or how it would feel.

We rode in silence for a long moment, and I considered how many people Adrian had changed over his lifetime. He had not always turned mortals as strategically as he did now, and the result had been utter chaos. The power he had unwittingly bestowed on some mortals only illustrated the truth of humanity—when given the option, they would do terrible things, and terrible things they did, attacking villages only to rape the women and kill the men. Those who did not die were changed and left to handle their hunger alone, which led to more attacks.

“Have you ever turned anyone the way you plan to turn me?” I asked, a question that made me feel both embarrassed and guilty. I tried not to be concerned with who Adrian had fucked before me and should not care how he had turned anyone before me either, but it felt different. I knew by how he spoke that he valued this above anything, so why did it matter?

“I have never changed anyone in the way I will change you.”

He spoke with such conviction, and the thing about his belief that he would change me was that I knew it was true too. But I needed time to process that I had become something I’d never planned for, a shifter.

“You once said these monsters who seek blood were creations of Asha,” I said. “Are aufhockers any different?”

“No.”

I was quiet, considering.

“Then is it possible that the aufhockers’ behavior changed because of her?”

I could not see Adrian’s face, but I could feel his body against mine, and as I spoke, he grew tense. He did not like what I was saying.

“Asha has no power on earth,” he said, his voice tight.

“Dis does not either,” I said. “Except for what she does through you.”

Adrian did not respond, but he did halt Shadow, and as he dismounted, I scanned the snowy woods, frowning, seeing no sign of the grave he had spoken of.

“I wish to walk you there,” he said, watching me. “It isn’t far.”

He helped me to the ground, my boots sinking into the snow as I landed. I let him lead, following in his footsteps, which made navigating the woods far easier. Now and then, I noticed how he would touch the trunk of a tree as we passed, fingers lingering as if he were collecting memories. Perhaps he was, or perhaps it was part of the way he remembered how to find the clearing that opened before us.

As I stood at its mouth, I was taken aback.

I had been unprepared for its solemn beauty.

A range of mountains created the backdrop to what Adrian had made my resting place. They sloped gently behind a forest of naked trees. These had thicker trunks, perhaps because they were older, and they seemed to reach endless heights, disappearing into a thick ethereal mist that nearly blocked out the red sky.

I stared so long at this otherworldly place that I almost missed the grave.

It was so simple—a large stone at the base of a tree—but it stole my breath.

I walked past Adrian, making my own way to the grave, and though I knew I no longer rested here, I touched the stone that had guarded me for so long. But the longer I stayed in this place, the more violated I felt. Knowing that someone had come here and disturbed our grave was even more painful.

It also made me sick to think that someone—possibly Ravena—was in possession of my bones and those of my coven. We had learned early on as witches that any parts of a body, be it hair or nails or skin, were powerful conduits—they were links to the dead, to their memories, to their power. With them, she could siphon our magic, and while it would not be nearly as powerful, it was still dangerous, especially because she possessed The Book of Dis.

I looked at Adrian, whose gaze moved from my hand on the stone to my face.

“Why did you choose this place?” I asked, and I could tell by his expression that he was remembering something long ago. Then he looked away, toward the mountains, and I followed.

“There was a cottage here long ago,” he said, and as he spoke, something took root in my mind, and I thought I could see it and the way this place used to be before it had been drained of life in the same way my sisters had been drained of theirs—a forest crowded with commanding and verdant trees so lush, light only slipped through in pockets of gold. They made it nearly impossible to see the mountains, which grew rich moss and wildflowers in fertile crevices, and within that flora, I could see the cottage, a collection of stacked and varied stones, a thatched roof, and a door made of oak.

I knew this place because it was where Adrian and I had fled when Dragos had made the decision to kill me. It was here we had spent our final night together, and it was here where we’d been captured. Where he had been beaten and I had lost my voice screaming for it to stop.

It was where Dragos had violated me, and Adrian had watched and raged.

It was where we’d witnessed the place we had called our home for a few short hours burn to the ground.

As the memories of that day came back, moisture gathered in my eyes and tears rolled down my cheeks. When I looked at Adrian, his face was haunted.

“Why did you choose this place?” I asked again, not understanding how he could come here when the terror had gone so deep.