Home > Books > King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(108)

King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(108)

Author:Scarlett St. Clair

She just stared, and I shoved the book back into the drawer, along with my knives, shutting it so violently, it shook on its legs.

“It’s not what you think, Isolde.”

“Then what is it?” I snapped, looking at her. She was pale, and there was a moment when I felt terrible for bringing this upon her when Isla was at the forefront of her mind.

“Adrian cares for you.”

It was my turn to flinch. “I think he loves Yesenia.”

“You cannot be angry with him for avenging her death,” Ana said. “He watched her burn at the stake, and when he tried to fight, they whipped him. He almost died.”

A thickness gathered in my throat. I’d touched those scars, traced them with my own calloused fingers. They were raised and jagged, and they covered every inch of his skin.

“That night, he not only lost the love of his life, but he also lost his king. Adrian had been loyal to Dragos, a member of his Elite Guard.”

“He should have been more discerning then,” I said.

Ana looked devastated by my comment, and her distress hit me in the heart.

“You don’t know what it was like,” she said, her voice quivering. “We were all… None of us saw it coming.”

Yesenia had, which meant she had kept the knowledge from everyone, including Adrian.

I swallowed the pain and the anger that had gathered in my throat. “Ana—”

She shook her head, silencing me. “We will be late.”

She did not wait for me, and I did not blame her. I had been insensitive. She was right. I did not know what it was like to live during the Burning or the Dark Era, and I was not personally connected to anyone who had lost their lives. It was not for me to judge how someone should behave or what secrets they shared around something so traumatic.

Still, I was hurt. I could admit that to myself. And when I was hurt, I wanted to fight.

The great hall was once again packed, wall to wall. Mortals and vampires alike crowded around tables or huddled close together, making room for those who wished to dance. When I entered, someone began a chant.

“Long live the queen!”

It continued, and people bowed, though I could not help feeling like I was surrounded by enemies: people who felt Adrian was distracted by me, people who had expectations of me that I could not meet. I was a threat to everyone’s agenda.

I supposed that was my power now, and I just had to stay alive long enough to use it.

It was already hot in the room. Perspiration was gathered between my thighs and breasts. It would be an uncomfortable evening in more than one way, I realized as I crested the dais where Adrian waited. His presence was a physical blow. He was dressed in a black tunic over which he wore a fine, black velvet surcoat. He was like the night, and his face was lit like a star, framed in a halo of blond hair.

I held his gaze, and he seemed both sincere and tender. I was torn between letting go of my rage and stabbing him as he greeted me.

“My queen,” he said and held out his hand. I took it, not wishing for him to know that I’d discovered his secret. Not yet. I only thought with relief that I had avoided making a fool of myself. Moments before I’d found Yesenia’s journal, I would have gone to him. I would have told him I was ready to make the world I wanted.

I could still have it, I reminded myself. Adrian was only a vessel through which to achieve my goal.

I shoved my hurt down and lifted my head. I would enjoy this night, and I would be crowned queen tomorrow, and I would seek a way to have my own form of vengeance. And perhaps, in the end, I would rule as I was meant to—alone.

“My king,” I acknowledged curtly.

Adrian raised a brow. “Are you feeling well this evening?”

“Extremely,” I replied, trying to calm myself enough so that he couldn’t read my mind. It was hard to imbue my voice with anything but disdain. I moved past him, headed for the high table where my father stood. Normally, I would have embraced him, kissed his cheek, but tonight, I only greeted him.

“Father,” I said.

“Isolde.” His voice was much softer, as if he wished to say something, but I did not look at him, and I did not even greet Killian, who stood opposite him.

Adrian came to stand beside me, Daroc and Ana on his right. As he sat, the rest of us followed. I reached for my wine, and though I knew it had been tested in the kitchens before it had arrived here at my table, I still hesitated.

“Would you like me to try it?” Adrian asked.

I swallowed, and without me even answering, he sipped.