Adrian returned my stare. A quiet heat burned behind his eyes, and I noted how he sat, rigid and wound tight. If he was not attempting some semblance of control tonight, he likely would have held to his promise to fuck me on this table.
But he had no invitation, especially when I was not speaking to him, and so he remained still and answered simply.
“You are the love of my life.”
It wasn’t an answer to my question, but it was Adrian’s answer to everything.
I took another sip of my wine, hoping it would help me relax, but sitting beside Adrian made that impossible.
I was hyperaware of every breath he inhaled, every slight move he made, and while I didn’t look directly at him, I saw when his hand snaked out, how his fingers curled around his drink—slender and long, strangely delicate for the monster he was.
They were fingers that gave me pleasure, that had been inside me and coaxed me to come with an uninterrupted grace.
And no matter how many times he made me rage, no matter how many times we fought, attempting to navigate this quick marriage and this deep and intoxicating love, I never wanted us to end.
But this apology, he would have to work for.
I rose from my place at the table, surprised when Adrian reached for me. My eyes fell to where his hand held my forearm, and then I met his stare.
“Where are you going?”
“I am tired,” I said.
He said nothing but shifted my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles before letting me go. I curtsied and left the dais, but as I navigated the crowd and dancers, I spotted Killian among the revelers, striding toward me. When I smiled at him, he grinned.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing.
“Killian,” I said. “I am glad to see you.”
“I never thought you’d say those words again.”
There was nothing hopeful within his eyes as he said it, and it seemed he finally understood I would never be his.
“Have you come to dance?” I asked.
He laughed, glancing at the crowd. “Only if you are offering,” he said. “Though I understand if you wish to retire.”
Despite our differences, there was a part of me that felt so comforted by Killian’s presence. He reminded me of home, the good part, and he was fiercely protective, which was something I admired when it applied to the people of Revekka, whom he had effortlessly and selflessly adopted.
“One dance,” I said.
He smiled and held out his gloved hand. We moved into the processional, choosing a place in line opposite each other. I laughed as I faced Killian, who looked out of place in his black uniform as he bounced on his feet and clapped to the lively music. We skipped to the center of the line to change places, linking our arms as we went.
“Please tell me you are having fun, Killian!”
“Of course,” he answered, amusement sparkling in his eyes before we broke apart.
The song went on, an unending tempo that made sweat bead across my skin, and for a moment, I thought of nothing beyond the fun of this dance, something I had not felt in a very long time. Then a set of hands clamped down on my waist, and I was drawn back against a hard body. Fingers tightened on my jaw and my head jerked back as Adrian’s mouth slammed against mine.
He was angry with me, though I did not know if it was because I had been avoiding him or because I had danced with Killian—perhaps both. I could feel it in his kiss, the way his tongue entered my mouth, viciously tasting me until I could not breathe, the way he held my face, hard, almost painfully. I pushed against him, and as he released me, his teeth bit into my lip. I stumbled back from his embrace, touching my fingers to my mouth. They came away with blood.
The sight of it shocked me, and when I looked at Adrian, I saw it shocked him too.
“Isolde,” Adrian said, taking a step toward me, but I recoiled.
I did not think he could look any more devastated, and for the second time today, I ran from him.
Eleven
Adrian
I watched her go. The jealousy that had torn through me was extinguished at the sight of her blood, which I had no intention of drawing, and I felt none of the usual euphoria that came with tasting her, only shame.
My eyes shifted to Killian, the man who had been the recipient of her happiness tonight.
“You hurt her,” he said, his mouth twisting in disgust.
And my response was no better. I was looking for a fight—a way to channel this deep and burning rage—
“She is mine—to hurt, to bleed, to fuck.”
Though I had no wish to hurt her, no wish to be the source of her tears.
I hated that I was.
Killian’s jaw only tightened. I knew he wanted to hit me. I could hear how he cursed me, but he did not move to strike. He left, a better man than I.
I felt Daroc approach.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“I came to make sure you didn’t kill the mortal,” he said. “Your wife isn’t the only one who is fond of him. The people of Cel Ceredi also have a soft spot for him after he aided them.”
I glared at Daroc, but I was also grateful. I would have regretted any anger I took out on the man. I already regretted the words I’d spoken.
“She will hate me for this,” I said. We still stood amid the crowd, though they kept their distance and no longer stared, uninterested in the interactions between a king and his general.
“For this?” Daroc asked. “You have done much worse.”
I scowled. “I do not need your commentary.”
“Then how about some advice?”
“Are you someone who should be offering it?”
His jaw tightened. “Never mind. Your wife is right to hate you.”
Despite the dismissiveness of his comment, Daroc did not leave my side. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “I…did not mean that,” he said and paused. “Isolde is seeking stability and familiarity because her world falls apart no matter the direction she turns. Today, during court, I saw her looking to you for safety because that is what she does—only, you did not save her. You pushed her into the fire again.”
I wanted to say so many things.
I know what I did to make her angry. What else was I supposed to do?
Fuck.
But as I thought about Daroc’s words, I knew what he was trying to say—Isolde did not trust me to keep her safe.
And why should she?
I had not been able to save her all those years ago.
She feared history repeating itself.
“I must go to my wife,” I said, but before I left, I met Daroc’s gaze.
“Before dawn breaks, bring my sword.”
Then, I went in search of Isolde.
It was not hard to find her. She never came to my bed when she was angry with me, but as I made my way to her floor, I found Killian leaving her chamber. I stayed in the shadows until he passed, frustration heating my blood, then I entered her room. She sat at her vanity, brushing out her hair.
She did not even look at me.
“Did you have a nice chat with your commander?” I asked.
“Do not,” she said, turning toward me.
“What?” I goaded. “I saw him leave your room.”
“He came to see if I was all right.”
“Which warranted an invitation into your room?”
“Are you going to accuse me of fucking him?”