“You seem tense,” he said. “What’s wrong? You need me to teach your wife how to suck your dick?”
I reached for my sword, which Daroc had readied. The blade rang in the night like a bell, clear and cold, silenced only when it met Razan’s flesh and bone.
His head hit the ground with a wet thud, rolling until it faced down on the stone ground.
In the dreadful quiet that followed his death, I stared at my blade, slick with his blood, feeling nothing beyond a sense of relief that he was dead.
Then I handed it to Daroc.
“Burn his head. Impale his body,” I said and returned to the castle, to Isolde, where I lay beside her and slept.
Twelve
Isolde
I would have to shift today. The thought made me nervous. The only part I liked about the idea was that I could spend time with Sorin, but before I met him for training, I decided to head to the library, uncertain if I would have the chance to visit later today.
It was early; the sun had not even brightened the horizon, and yet the staff were already busy, carrying armfuls of blackthorn branches, thistle, and baskets of garlic down the hallway, though they paused as I passed to curtsy or bow.
The items they carried were all used to protect against vampires in Lara on the night of Winter’s Eve, which was said to be the night when all evil in the world gained control, but of that evil, vampires and vârcolaci, or werewolves, were said to be the most powerful.
“Are we preparing for Winter’s Eve?” I asked, halting a maid as she walked by.
“Yes, my queen,” she said with a smile. She seemed excited. “Do you recognize the holiday?”
“I do… Forgive me, but are we celebrating?” I asked.
I could not imagine. This night was the quietest in Lara. No one was allowed outside once nightfall came, and villagers kept their homes as bright as possible, fearing every creak or howl that disturbed the darkness outside.
We had truly believed in evil, and I never managed to sleep during Winter’s Eve, though that may have been because Nadia insisted on staying in my room to recite protection prayers.
“I suppose you could call it a celebration,” the maid said. “But I would call it more of a ritual.”
“Why a ritual?”
“Well, if you are older, you believe this night gives rise to darker things,” she said. “My grandmother says if we appease those things, our winter will not be so harsh.”
“And what do you think?” I asked because the maid was young.
“I think it is all a fable,” she said. “But we will use any excuse to have a bit of fun, especially during these times.”
I was not surprised by the difference in views or that Lara and Revekka celebrated Winter’s Eve so differently. Given that Adrian had ruled as king here for almost two hundred years, they had very little reason to fear the strength of vampires or vârcolaci.
I sent the maid on her way and continued to the library’s great room, where the evidence of much of my research remained in haphazard stacks.
Only a week ago I had been trying to piece together a history via the journals of Revekkian villagers who had described the raw and unfiltered horror of Dragos’s witch hunts. Now, I hunted for any mention of High Coven—my sisters, our magic, and spells.
“Do you have any books on illness?” I asked when Lothian and Zann entered the great room, each carrying a stack of books. They were so heavy, they had to bend back to hold them, and I feared they both might snap in two. They placed the books upon the table with a loud thud.
“Quite a few,” said Zann. “What are you looking for?”
“At court the other day, several villagers said their men and boys had come down with a type of illness…” I began.
“Yes, we heard,” Zann said. “A blood plague, we think.”
“You already know?” I asked, surprised.
“We suspect,” Lothian clarified. “We think the crimson mist is responsible, that it somehow morphed into a plague.”
It was as I feared.
“We would have to experiment to be certain,” Zann added.
“Experiment?”
“Well, we would need to bury the body of a person who died from the supposed blood plague. If they reanimate with the same characteristics as those who were infected by the crimson mist, then we can be certain of our theory.”
I frowned. As much as I wished to confirm the truth, that was not a safe option.
“Of course, if we possessed other spell books, we might learn the truth and even find a way to banish it.”
“But those were all destroyed during the Burning,” I said.
“Hmm.” Zann did not sound convinced.
“What?” I asked.
“There were rumors for a long time after the Burning that Dragos was collecting spell books, that he maintained a secret library somewhere here in the castle.”
“And you believe that?”
It was hard to accept that Adrian would not have found it by now.
“Do you really believe a king let that kind of power slip through his fingers?” Zann asked.
I supposed I didn’t.
***
I watched Solaris wandering through the snow-covered gardens. I did not like that he felt such ease within my home. He was an intruder, a man with no allegiance or home, and he was corrupting the one place I felt the most comfort.
“Well, aren’t we sullen this morning?”
Sorin approached, a lopsided smile on his full lips. He sidled up beside me, peering out the window. He was quiet once he spotted the witch-hunter.
“Do you believe he was created by Dis?” I asked.
“I think Dis grants powers as she pleases,” Sorin said. “We are nothing to her but pawns…even Adrian.”
Sorin glanced at me as he spoke, and I wondered if he was trying to gauge my reaction.
“Adrian conquers for himself,” I said.
“Perhaps he does now,” said Sorin. “But what happens when his goals no longer align with Dis’s?”
I lowered my brows. “What are you saying, Sorin?”
He shrugged. “Adrian bears the mark of Dis. You have seen it, the white ring around his eyes. He executes her will, even if he claims it is his own. It was the agreement he made when he asked that you be resurrected.”
I did not know what to say or how to process this information, but I could feel Sorin’s anxiety over it.
“He would never tell you this,” Sorin said. “It is probably safer that you pretend you do not know.”
“Is there a way to free him?”
“Do you not think he has tried?” He paused. “I think in some way…he hoped you would know.”
His words made me feel guilty for not knowing how to help him.
“Are you angry?” Sorin asked, his voice quiet.
“I did not need another reminder that I have no value beyond the magic I once had.”
“That is not true, Isolde. If anything, with your new ability, you will be the only one who can protect us when Adrian loses his fight with Dis.”
Dread pooled low in my stomach. I did not like how he said it—as if it were an unavoidable truth.
“We should get to training,” he said, and we walked together down the hall. “Do you think Dis likes dogs?”