Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(65)

There was no comfort for this—not even in revenge—because trauma was a nightmare that clung to its victims with an iron fist.

“Then they killed her,” she said, and then she wailed. “They killed her because of me.”

She collapsed in my arms, and I held her and cried with her until neither of us had anything left but rage.





Nineteen





Isolde

I woke up crying.

At first it was because of my memory of Ana, and then I cried for myself.

Adrian lay beside me, and I turned into him, burying my face in his chest, weeping harder. He held me gently and whispered love to me while he kissed my hair.

It took me a while to speak, to form words beyond the sobs wracking my body, and I held onto Adrian harder, almost as if I feared someone would tear me away from him.

I don’t know how long I cried, but what brought words to my lips was the realization that I still wore Violeta’s necklace.

“How is Ana?…Violeta?”

When Adrian spoke, his voice was quiet, warm, and pained. “Ana is healed but she has not woken up yet.”

“And Violeta?”

He was quiet and I shifted to meet his gaze. “Adrian.” My voice trembled. “How is Violeta?”

He looked far more pale than usual, and he swallowed before he spoke, the words escaping his colorless lips in a whisper. “She didn’t make it.”

I shook my head. “She had to have.”

If Ana and I made it, there was no other explanation. Why were we alive if she was dead?

I could not grasp it, could not accept it—wouldn’t.

“Isolde,” Adrian said gently.

“No—” My voice broke, and I dissolved into tears once more.

Adrian pulled me to him, and time passed in this turbulent manner—where I would cry and then sleep, overcome with exhaustion, and wake up once more in tears.

“How did you find us?” I asked.

He waited so long to speak, I didn’t think he would tell me, but then he started. “Sorin,” he said. “He found me in Cel Ceredi. He left you all in the grove, surrounded by villagers from Gal who thought they were doling out justice against witches.”

A wave of nausea soured the back of my throat.

This was Solaris’s fault.

“Why are you saying it like that?” I asked. “Why are you saying he left us?”

I felt defensive. I remembered hearing the low growls of aufhockers disturbing our casting, and the sounds of Sorin battling, but beyond that, I knew nothing because by then, we had been attacked. I wondered how the villagers had managed to slip past the monster or monsters attacking Sorin.

“Because that is what he did,” Adrian said.

“He could not help it,” I said. “There were…so many. It was almost as if they knew we were going to be there.”

Adrian was tense beneath me. I did not think he blamed Sorin for having to leave for help, so much as he blamed himself for not being there at all.

“How is Sorin?” I asked.

“Devastated,” Adrian replied, and I could tell he spoke with his jaw clenched. “He says he heard a growl and thought it was an aufhocker. Then he heard another and thought it might be a pack. When he shifted, he found he was surrounded by villagers, and by then, you had all been attacked. They were lying in wait.”

If that were true, how did they know? We had told no one save our small circle about our plans to cast a containment spell for the mist.

A spell that we had not even been able to complete.

All of that work and time, wasted.

“What happened to the villagers?”

“Those who did not die that night will die today,” he said.

I expected nothing less.

In the silence that followed, my eyes once again filled with tears. This time, I thought about how we had only been motivated to help our people, to protect them from Ravena’s magic. But none of it mattered; all of it went unacknowledged.

Perhaps I was foolish to keep fighting for others and should only fight for myself.

***

At some point, I woke up again, and Adrian was gone.

I shot up from bed but found him staring out the window. When he heard me, he turned and crossed the room to me.

“I’m here,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had dressed and looked every bit the deadly conqueror and regal king he was. His tunic was fine and delicately threaded with intricate designs. His hair was smooth, half pinned away from his angled face. His expression was severe, save for his eyes which studied me tenderly. Then he lifted his hand to caress my cheek and I flinched away.

His eyes widened and he dropped his hand quickly. As soon as I realized what I had done, I reached for him.

“I did not mean—”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “It’s all right.”

My throat was thick with emotion. I might have cried again if I’d had anything left to give, but I didn’t.

Instead, I lifted his palm to the side of my face and closed my eyes, focusing on his warmth. Then he slowly let his hand fall away, and instead, threaded his fingers through mine.

I stared at our hands while memories and words spun in my head. Finally, I spoke. “I do not understand what happened at the lake.”