Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(53)

“My queen,” he said, and while he did not speak the words aloud, I knew what he asked with his eyes. What did I say about being outside past nightfall?

“My king,” I said. “We were just listening to Vesna sing. Will you join us?”

Adrian studied me for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting. Then he dismounted and came to me, placing his hands on either side of my face as he kissed me.

When he drew away, we turned toward the crowd. They had all knelt.

“Rise,” Adrian said. “Vesna, please, continue.”

Her voice rose once more, and a shiver trailed down my spine, but this time, it had nothing to do with her singing. Adrian leaned in, his breath hot on my ear as he spoke.

“I shall very much enjoy teaching you how to obey me later,” he said, his tongue teasing the shell of my ear.

“You may try all you like,” I replied.

He was blatant in his affection, dropping his mouth to the crook of my neck, where he kissed and nipped at my skin.

“Adrian.” I whispered his name fiercely. It was more a reprimand than encouragement, but a dreadful scream tore us apart.





Sixteen





Isolde

The sound sent my heart racing, and I looked toward Killian as he rose to his feet and came to my side. Violeta and Vesna also huddled close. Half the crowd was distressed, voices rising in fear. The other half looked on, curious, as we tried to locate the source of the screaming and the reason.

There was another wail, and then someone shouted.

“It’s the blood plague! The blood plague has come to Cel Ceredi!”

No longer curious, the crowd began to disperse. Some were frantic to retreat indoors, while others tried to get a closer look at what was happening. Adrian and I pushed through the chaos to find a woman bent over a man who lay on his back in the snow.

“Please! I beg you,” she moaned, rocking back and forth. “Someone help me take him to the king!”

“What has happened?” Adrian asked. He stepped forward despite how hard I held him. If this was the blood plague, we did not know enough about how it spread to take chances.

It had killed two vampires, and yet Adrian still approached.

“My king! My king, please help! My husband is ill!”

Even as she spoke, the man on the ground before her began to convulse and blood leaked from his eyes, nose, and mouth. The woman shrieked, her shaking hands hovering over his body, as if she wanted to touch him but was too afraid.

Then he stopped moving altogether, and I looked on in horror as she began to scream his name. It seemed like the villagers drew nearer too.

“Efram?” she called, distressed and desperate. “Efram? No, please! Please wake up.”

She took the hem of her dress and began to dab at the blood on his face. Killian approached, dragging her away from the corpse, and sat, holding her in his arms on the cold ground.

Though I admired his impulse to comfort her, I worried that he may become infected.

“Perhaps I can help,” Solaris said, coming forward.

“He’s dead,” Adrian said. “You’re too late.”

The witch-hunter offered a cold gaze. “Are you saying I cannot try?”

Adrian did not speak, just gestured to the body.

Solaris knelt, taking the glove off his withered hand and holding it over the body—which took a deep breath.

The crowd who had gathered to watch gasped. I felt both shocked and sick. Adrian looked furious.

The man, Efram, who had died moments ago, began to choke. Solaris helped him roll to his side, and blood sprayed from his mouth onto the snow. Then he began to cough and spit mouthfuls of blood until he could produce nothing but clear saliva.

“Efram!” His wife had freed herself from Killian’s grasp and crawled toward her husband while a steady rumble of voices began to rise behind me.

“It is a miracle.”

“He is our savior.”

“He has been sent by the goddess herself.”

I clenched my fists against those words and stared at Adrian. I was not certain, but I thought for a moment that he might strike and murder the man Solaris had resurrected.

“Come, on your feet,” said Solaris, rising.

Once they were standing, his wife threw her arms around Efram, but he did not return the hug, nor did he bear any expression, and I thought he seemed more like a revenant than a man returned to life.

If his wife noticed, she did not seem to care, because she turned to Solaris and exclaimed, “You are a god!”

Those nearby began to cheer as the man who had risen from the dead made his way through the streets of Cel Ceredi with Solaris by his side.

“They should be more afraid,” I said, but the mist, the aufhockers, and the plague had all made them too desperate for a savior, and they had chosen Solaris the moment he had promised to rid the world of Ravena.

I had no doubt they would regret their decision, but it would be a hard lesson.

“Are you just going to let them go?” I asked, looking at Adrian, who still stood near where Efram had lain, marked by his blood.

“What would you have me do when the people of Cel Ceredi think he is a god?”

“Exercise your rule as king,” I said. “Bring Efram and Solaris to the castle, have them spend the night in the dungeon for observation.”