Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(51)

***

I found myself wandering into the kitchens, a place I had never been. Like many rooms in the castle, this one was cavernous. The doors, windows, and ceiling were all rounded, and a large iron chandelier hung over two long tables positioned before a great hearth that raged with fire. A man stood at one table, kneading loaves of bread. Violeta and Vesna sat at the other, along with Killian, who was the first to notice I had arrived.

He stood quickly.

“Isol—my queen,” he stammered.

My ladies-in-waiting also stood and bowed, and the cook, who was a large, older man, whirled, face glistening with sweat as he clumsily bowed.

“My queen!” he said and began wringing hands. “I hope you have been pleased with your meals. Is everything to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said and smiled. “What is your name?”

This time, he offered an exaggerated bow. “I am called Cyril.”

I smiled at him, and then my gaze shifted to the table where Killian, Violeta, and Vesna sat, noticing a variety of strange supplies spread out before them—sticks, paper, twine, and berries.

“What are you making?” I asked.

“Lanterns,” said Violeta. “To scare away the demons!”

Her tone changed, and I could tell she was joking. I admired the fact that she did not seem to fear Winter’s Eve the way I had for so many years.

“May I join you?”

There was a part of me that did not wish to stay because I did not want to interrupt their fun. I recognized that my presence was not the most comforting, even to those who worked for me or knew me well. Still, I did not wish to be alone to worry over Adrian.

“Of course!” Violeta said.

After I was settled, Killian sat beside me and returned to his project.

“It appears your lantern has melted,” I said.

“That’s because he doesn’t listen to instructions,” said Violeta.

“Or you are really bad at giving them,” Killian countered, smirking. I found it amusing that he was making lanterns. I had expected to find him training or in Cel Ceredi busying himself with errands.

“That is rude, Commander Killian,” Violeta said, feigning offense.

“I quite agree,” I said.

“You are not allowed to take sides until you try to follow her instructions,” said Killian.

“Fine,” I said and took up a set of sticks. “Instruct, Violeta.”

She did, happily, using the sticks and twine to create a frame to which she glued a thin sheet of paper that she had dyed with colorful berries. When she was finished, she placed it over a lit candle on the table, demonstrating how it glowed.

“That seems easy enough,” I said, glancing at Killian.

He stuck out his chin. “Let’s see it then.”

I took that as a challenge and started work on my own lantern.

“Why are you making so many?” I asked.

“We’re taking them into Cel Ceredi to give them to the villagers to place in their windows tonight,” said Vesna.

“I do not understand why you cannot just use candles,” Killian said.

Violeta rolled her eyes. “Candles are hardly as decorative.”

“Winter’s Eve is not about celebration,” he said. “It is about surviving the night.”

She laughed. “Tonight is no different than any other. We have only given it a name.”

“You are wrong,” he said, his playfulness gone, and Violeta looked stricken by the sudden change.

“In Lara, this night is feared,” I explained quickly, glaring at Killian. “We do very similar things—hang the blackthorn and the thistle. We even burn garlic and candles all night, but it is for survival, not celebration.”

“What are you afraid of?” Vesna asked.

“Demons,” I said.

After that, the jovial and carefree conversation was replaced by a grim silence. It weighed on me and gave way to thoughts I’d hoped to keep at a distance, at least until Adrian returned safe, but now I thought of Ivka and Dracul and his men we had yet to find. I thought of the mortals, all men and boys, who had died with bleeding eyes. There was no pattern to the plague, just as there had been no pattern to the crimson mist, which made me think that Lothian and Zann were right, and perhaps it had morphed into this deadly disease.

“Not bad,” said Killian, drawing me from my thoughts. I had stopped working on my lantern, and I knew he had noticed. I was glad for his comment because it brought me back to myself.

“Superior work, my queen,” said Violeta.

“You don’t have to lie,” said Killian.

“You are only jealous,” I said.

“Yes, Commander,” said Violeta. “And jealousy is not attractive.”

When we were finished, Violeta and Vesna began to gather the lanterns by a string, which they had tied to the top of each one as they prepared to take them into Cel Ceredi.

“Lovely work,” said Cyril, giving a toothy grin.

“And you, Cyril,” I said, admiring the perfect ovals of dough he had formed on two large pans. “I cannot wait to taste.”

“You shall have the first bite, my queen.”

I smiled, though his comment made me shudder, and I hated that a discussion about bread made me think of aufhocker teeth sinking into my skin.