He was quiet.
“Adrian?”
“I am aware of what you want, Isolde, but I cannot give you everything you ask for all at once, no matter how I wish to.”
“I am only asking to know more about them,” I said. “You sent Sorin to scout the entirety of Cordova. Could you not send him to Nalani?”
“Say I did,” he said, “and he came back with information you did not like. You would be restless to save them, but who do you choose? You swore to protect the people of Revekka and Lara. You never swore to protect Nalani.”
“I swore to protect my people,” I said.
“Can you even call them yours?” he said. “They do not know who you are.”
I felt the heat drain from my face at his words and rose to my feet. Only then did he seem to realize what he’d said.
“I did not mean—”
“I think you should stop talking,” I said, and he grew silent. “They may not know I exist, and I may not know their ways, but I still belong to them…more than I ever belonged to you.”
I left and considered going to the library, but any research I attempted would be futile. I was unfocused and frustrated and far more restless after my conversation with Adrian. In many ways, I knew he was right. I had to be strategic about how I chose to help any of my people. I also wished he had chosen different words to communicate how he felt about my return to Lara and my concern over Nalani, because I was tired of his apologies in the aftermath of my pain.
I wandered the halls, wishing it were not so cold and snowy so that I could seek the solace of the gardens. Instead, I lingered near the windows, staring out at Revekka’s frozen landscape, wondering what horror Ravena planned to unleash on us next, hoping we would be prepared and knowing we wouldn’t.
I moved on from the window, and as I made my way down the hall, I noticed I was not alone. Sorin lounged in an alcove, one leg propped over the other, a book open on his lap. He was dressed in a tunic and leggings and his feet were bare.
“I thought you didn’t read,” I said.
Sorin met my gaze, the serious expression he had worn while reading fading away into a sweet smile.
“I distinctly remember telling you I was kidding, my queen.”
I matched his smile. “May I join you?”
He sat up straighter and closed his book. “Of course.”
I sat beside him on the cushioned bench.
“What brings you out of your bed at this hour?” he asked.
“I needed a break from Adrian,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Sorin chuckled, eyes glittering. “Exhausting, is he?”
“If you are referring to the words coming out of his mouth, then yes,” I said.
Sorin laughed louder.
“And you? Why are you out here?”
“Ah, well,” he said, smile fading, the cover of his book suddenly seeming far more interesting. “I am giving Daroc a break.”
“I have a feeling it isn’t his words you are tired of,” I said.
Sorin shook his head. “The only time he speaks is when I’ve done something he doesn’t approve of.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I suppose you should be. It was your husband who put him in such a poor mood,” he teased. Then he paused for a long moment, adding, “Sometimes…”
He trailed off and I waited but he did not finish his sentence.
“Sometimes, what?”
“I do not know if I should say,” he said and met my gaze.
“If it is how you feel, it is valid,” I said.
It took him a moment, but finally he spoke. “Sometimes I wonder if he is in love with Adrian.”
I did not know what to say, and it took me a moment to find words. “Is it love or is it loyalty?”
He looked almost as though he were trying to make himself smaller as he sat forward, running a hand over his short, coarse hair.
“Maybe,” he said and paused. “Perhaps I am only jealous.”
I tilted my head to the side, studying him. “Or maybe you know a truth Daroc refuses to acknowledge because he also loves you.”
Sorin covered his mouth and offered a single, disbelieving laugh and dropped his arms, letting his elbows rest on his knees.
“Enough about me,” he said. “Adrian tells me you’ve turned into a beast.” Sorin grinned, his dark eyes alight with amusement.
I glared. “Careful or I’ll claw that pretty face of yours.”
“You’d have to catch me first,” he said. “And last I checked, aufhockers cannot fly.”
I sighed. “I think I’d have preferred flying.”
“There are few abilities greater than one another,” he said. “It is all in how you choose to use them.”
I met his gaze. “And you are the one to teach me?”
“It would seem so,” he mused. “Let us hope Adrian does not come to regret it.”
“Why would he?”
He shrugged. “Because he chose not to teach you.”
“I don’t think Adrian can teach me to shift, Sorin.”
“Adrian can teach you anything,” he said. “The only reason he doesn’t is to keep parts of himself secret.”
I frowned. Secret from who? It seemed that Sorin had more knowledge of my husband than I did.
The tracker got to his feet. “I shall relieve you of my presence for the night,” he said and bowed. “I look forward to our training sessions.”
I let him go without question, suddenly feeling very tired. I left the hall for my room and lay down in my bed, exhaustion settling heavily into my bones. I stared at the ceiling, though my eyes felt gritty and tired. It was cold in my room, and it made me hyperaware that I was alone, that Adrian was not asleep beside me, and that he had secrets he preferred to keep. I hated that it hurt so much.
***
I woke even before the sun began to redden the sky.
My room was cold, my hearth unlit, and while I could summon Violeta for the task, I wanted to be alone, so I pulled a blanket from my bed and wrapped it around me, choosing to sit at my desk. Nadia’s letter remained folded, unanswered near my well of ink and quill. She had written long before my father had arrived for my coronation, long before I’d learned what he truly prized.
I considered responding to her. It would be an opportunity to lie, to tell her that my father was well and that we were enjoying our time together, but I did not think I could read her words again. It was bad enough that I could recall most of them on my own.
Think often of us, especially your father. He is lost without you.
Her words made my stomach churn, but I knew she believed what she wrote.
I also knew she believed I had a plan to kill Adrian.
Nadia had been the first to suggest it. She had put the blade in my hand, and while I had tried to carry out her wish, it had been impossible.
I had fallen in love with him, long before I even knew what was happening.
The body knows before the mind.
I wondered if news had spread across the courts, about how the former princess of Lara loved the Blood King, and I wondered if Nadia scolded anyone who dared speak such blasphemy about her sweet Issi.
But I had never been sweet.
And that had always been Nadia’s greatest fault—refusing to see the princess she truly cared for.