I hardly made it down the corridor without encountering a stricken gaze. I held my head higher, refusing to lower my eyes. I was not ashamed of my decision, and I knew that my people only looked at me this way because they were afraid—for me and their future.
“Princess Isolde!”
Lady Larisa shimmied forward; the folds of her gown seemed to restrict her movement. She had her younger sister, Gabriela, in tow. Their father, Lord Cristian, oversaw one of three vineyards in Lara. He had been the first to sweeten the bitter drink, which had heightened the demand across all Cordova. He had also loudly declared his concern for the loss of his title and land upon surrender to Adrian, which had lowered my opinion of him considerably. Though Larisa and Gabriela were well meaning and sweet.
“I just heard the news. How are you?”
“I am fine, Lady Larisa,” I said. “Thank you for your concern.”
I meant that genuinely. She had been the first to ask if I was all right.
“I cannot imagine how shocked you must be,” she continued. “I always thought you would rule as our queen.”
“Becoming queen of Revekka does not mean I will not also one day rule Lara,” I said.
“So you will support your new husband, then, in his conquest of Cordova?”
I whirled to find Lord Cristian hovering. He was a tall man with dark features, and he stared down at me, his hands behind his back. I hated the way he looked at me. It was clear he thought I was nothing more than a child, even at my twenty-six years of age.
“Certainly not, Lord Cristian,” I replied, trying to keep my frustration at bay. “Though I am still heir of Lara.”
“Of course,” he said and came to stand beside his daughters. “We are all watching with bated breath, Princess, to see your next move.”
“Excuse me?”
“You will be close to the Blood King,” he said. “Closer than anyone ever has been.”
He did not need to be explicit for me to understand his implication—they were waiting for me to kill Adrian. To speak such words, however, would be considered treason to the Blood King. Though that did not matter to me so much as this man’s perceived power over me.
“The only thing you should be watching, Lord Cristian, is your crop,” I said.
The man stiffened. If he wanted to play a game of subtlety, I could too, especially given his concern for himself and not those over whom he ruled.
“Have a good night, my lord,” I said, and then my gaze shifted to his daughters. “Lady Larisa, Lady Gabriela.”
By the time I made it to my room, my adrenaline had crashed, and I was left feeling exhausted. As I opened my door, I found Nadia waiting. She looked up at me from her spot before the fireplace, shoulders hunched, hands grasping her apron. I did not need to ask if she had heard the news; I could tell by her expression she knew. Her eyes were wide, glassy, and she was pale.
“Nadia.” Her name fell from my mouth, quiet and distant. I had not expected her to be waiting for me. I’d really hoped to be alone, especially because she looked at me—in the same way everyone was looking at me—as if I were already a ghost.
“Oh, Issi,” she said as she advanced. Her arms encircled me, hands digging into my back. “I cannot believe what I have just heard. Tell me that vile king did not ask for your hand.”
“He did,” I said, and she pushed me to arm’s length to study my face. I looked back at her but did not really see her. I couldn’t focus.
“You did not have to say yes. Your father would have gladly fought for you.”
My father rarely made rash decisions, but something else had overtaken him when Adrian had asked for me. I had never seen that kind of fire in his eyes, but I could relate, because it was how my insides felt—a kind of angry fear, a desperation to hold on to the person you love most.
“But I did say yes,” I said.
Nadia knew that, and my father did too.
I took a breath and released her, crossing the room to my bed. I slipped out of my shoes. It was my way of telling her I was ready for bed.
“If only you had wed Commander Killian,” she said as she loosened the ties at my back.
I cringed. “Even if I had known what today would bring, I could not face marrying Alec Killian.”
“It would be better than marriage to a monster,” Nadia said as she finished unlacing my gown. It puddled to the floor, and I was left wearing only a cream-colored shift.
I turned to face her.
Killian had all the potential of becoming a monster, though I did not say that, because at the end of the day, that wasn’t what I cared about.