Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(69)

“No,” Adrian said, though he did not elaborate.

When I turned to him, he was placing an iron rod into the fire.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A cauterizing iron,” Adrian said.

“Are we cutting something off?” I asked.

“You are,” he said.

“What am I cutting off?”

Before Adrian could answer, we were joined by Daroc and Sorin. They walked with Solaris between them, one gripping each of his arms, and they forced him to his knees in front of a round, flat piece of stone.

I expected him to look far angrier, but there was a resignation within his gaze. He stared up at us, waiting.

“You have used your power blindly,” Adrian said. “You came into my kingdom and offered aid, but you inspired a witch hunt that nearly killed my wife, my cousin, and resulted in the death of a young girl. You used resurrection to present as a savior to a man who should have stayed dead. Now his entire family, and those who were brave enough to try to stop him, are dead.”

As Adrian spoke, Solaris’s head lowered in shame. Once again, I found myself surprised by his reaction. I had expected him to fight, to be defiant in the face of his punishment.

“For this,” Adrian continued, “you must be punished. Do you have anything to say?”

Solaris lifted his head, his eyes widening a little. “I can only express I did not mean for any of this to happen,” he said.

“Then what did you mean?” I asked. “Because from where I stood, your decisions looked very intentional. You came to court and announced you were a witch-hunter amid panic.”

“It was wrong of me,” he said. “I sought to be valuable, if not to you, then to your people.”

“Why?”

“Because I want revenge,” he said. “And not even against Ravena, though I would like to see her die. I want revenge against Dis. This hand… I did not know what she bestowed upon me when I begged for the lives of my wife and children.”

I did not need to ask what he had done. I knew he had resurrected them.

“If you knew the horror of resurrection, why did you do it here?”

“I thought it might be different this time. It was dangerous and foolish.” He paused, and then spoke through his teeth, voice shuddering. “But why? Why would this be the gift she bestowed? When all it brings is horror?”

“Your mistake was thinking it was a gift,” said Adrian.

Solaris let his head fall; his eyes glazed.

“It might be hard to believe,” he said. “But I had no wish to see that man turn into a monster.”

“Intention does not matter here,” Adrian replied.

Solaris nodded. “You asked when I first came, what I would have to offer if you cut off my hand. I have tried. It only grows back.”

“Dis is a cruel mistress,” Adrian replied, and then reached for an axe which hung among several weapons on the wall. It had a crescent-shaped blade and an iron handle.

He handed me the weapon, and I was surprised that it was so light.

“Take his other hand,” Adrian said.

Daroc and Sorin cut his bindings. They did not have to force Solaris to lay his right arm upon the stone. He did it himself, though he shook. I admired his willingness to accept his punishment, and there was a small part of me that hesitated to go through with it, but sorrow did not atone for what he had knowingly done. I considered giving Adrian the axe to follow through, but given what he had said, I worried Dis might retaliate.

So I moved into position and let the axe hover over his wrist, adjusting my stance. Solaris’s body was rigid, and air filled his cheeks as he tried to prepare for the pain.

I gripped the handle with both hands, and then I brought it down upon him. The blade was so sharp, it cut through his skin and bone effortlessly. Solaris had gone white, and a ragged groan escaped from his throat. Daroc and Sorin moved in, shoving him into the stone to keep him still as Adrian retrieved the cauterizing iron. As he pressed the flat, hot end to Solaris’s wrist, his violent screams filled the chamber.





Twenty





Isolde

Violeta was carried to the pyre in the courtyard, draped in her black shroud.

While I had felt some element of sympathy for Solaris earlier, it had dried up the moment I saw her again. I had no doubt that his arrival had inspired the people of Gal to attack us, and because of his carelessness, we were left with the fallout, with the grief, with the guilt.

Her family gathered opposite us, huddled together, sobbing. She’d had a mother, father, two brothers, and one sister. I saw parts of her in each of them. I tried not to stare, but I could not help watching, feeling responsible for every tear they shed.

There were others gathered in the courtyard—servants who had worked with her, villagers who loved her, and those who served closest to us, among them Killian.

We took turns laying flowers around her—lavender, lilies, whatever had yet to die beneath the snow in the garden. I watched closely when it was Killian’s turn. His features were hard, but his eyes were sad, and he lifted his hand, hesitating before he brushed his fingers against her ruined lips. His mouth moved, but I could not hear what he said, and at some point, it felt too intimate to watch.

I looked away until it was my turn. I placed my palm against her forehead. It was soft beneath my touch and bile rose into my throat.