Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(64)

“To keep warm,” he said when he saw us looking. “I’ll be in the trees, watching…not watching you all…standing guard, I mean.”

I tried not to smile. “It’s okay, Sorin. We know you like men.”

He scrubbed the back of his neck and then shifted, flying into the dark.

Ana, Violeta, and I each took a side and began removing our clothes. Behind me, Sorin’s torch still blazed, but I could feel none of the warmth as I slipped out of my cloak. The cold was brutal, and as I exposed each part of myself to the night, I felt even more dread at the coming ritual.

Once we were naked, we entered the water, stepping on sharp stones and slipping on slimy sand until we were waist-deep. I looked across to Ana, who did not seem to mind the cold. Her arms were at her sides, and her hair fell over her shoulders, covering her breasts. Violeta stood hunched, arms crossed over her chest.

“Ready?” Ana asked.

I was not sure but I nodded.

She closed her eyes and I followed, letting my arms rest on the water, palms facing up. I took a deep breath and allowed every part of my body to relax as I exhaled. I felt heavy and grounded and focused on nothing beyond me and the water touching my skin. I was surprised by how easy it had been to come to a place of peace within me so quickly, given how agonized I had felt up until this point, but that peace was quickly shattered by a familiar, vicious growl.

An aufhocker was nearby.

“Sorin?” I called, my eyes still closed, trying desperately to hold on to the calm that had entered my body, but I already felt as though I was vibrating, my adrenaline spiking.

“I’ve got everything under control,” he called, though another growl joined the first, and the sounds of Sorin fighting filled the hollow.

I closed my eyes tighter and tried to focus. When Ana began to chant, Violeta and I joined, and the world seemed to fall away. We spoke in a language that had memory in my soul. I could feel the words moving around beneath my skin, twisting in the bottom of my stomach. I felt my magic roar to life—a stream of energy that tore me open.

I began to sob, to shake, to scream.

And then I was hit hard on the head, and I fell into the water, which was just as shocking as the blow. My hair was yanked back as I broke the surface only to hear Violeta’s and Ana’s screams.

I gasped for air as another two people grabbed my arms.

“Get her out!” a harsh male voice ordered.

I was dragged from the water, my ribs cracking against jagged rocks.

“Bloody witch!” another awful voice spat.

When I felt the earth beneath me, my attackers dropped my hands and began to beat my body. The first blow was a kick to my stomach. It stole my breath and made me nauseous, and as I rolled to protect myself, gasping desperately for breath, another blow landed on my back, knocking me flat to the ground. After that, it was a barrage of kicks to all parts of my body. I tasted blood and then I could not feel anything.

But that was not what scared me most; it was the peace that suddenly overcame me. I had felt it before when Dragos’s men set fire to the tinder at my feet. My body eased, sinking into the ground. I could not feel pain. I did not even need to breathe.

I rolled onto my side, and as I did, I saw Ana only a few feet away, her battered face aglow in the torchlight.

Suddenly I was in another time, running through these very woods, the ground uneven beneath my feet, the limbs of trees striking my skin. My breath shuddered out of me, my lungs burning.

“Ana!”

Her name left my mouth, a choked cry. I hoped it would make her stop, but she only seemed to run faster.

“Ana!” I begged, wheezing her name. “Ana, please!”

She stumbled and fell and stayed where she landed, her body shaking with sobs. I fell to my knees and held her.

I had no idea what had happened. I just knew it was horrible because I had caught her fleeing the castle, battered and beaten. I didn’t know how long we sat there, but eventually she sat up, her face swollen so badly, I didn’t think she could even see me. There was a gash across her cheek, and her nose was broken, her lip split.

“Ana,” I said, my vision blurred with tears. I wanted to touch her face, but I knew I would only hurt her, so I reached for her hands instead. They were bruised, her nails broken. “What happened?”

She tried to speak, but every time she started to open her mouth, a violent sob burst from her throat. I waited as she navigated this vicious cycle, and the more I watched, the more I wanted to carve out my own heart just so I would not have to feel the pain of it breaking.

“King Dragos keeps a pleasure house in the dungeon of the Red Palace,” she explained. “He says it is for his lords, says they will perform better if they have a place to spill their seed.”

She spoke with her bloody teeth clenched, her disgust barely contained.

“The lords are free to go any time so long as they bring a new boy or girl every month. They have kidnapped hundreds, and I have only helped a few escape, but tonight as I was trying to free a girl, I was caught.”

Her voice broke and she shook, tears streaming down her face. She pulled her hands from mine and started to wipe her face, but I stopped her.

That only seemed to make her cry harder.

“They raped me,” she whispered and then spoke through her teeth again, shaking with hate. “Every. Lord.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. I had no words.