“It is the way of cowards,” Adrian said.
“And yet you attack those who have no defense against your onslaught. What does that make you?”
“A monster,” he said without hesitation.
“Do you really believe that?” I asked, curious.
There was a difference between a monster and someone who could be monstrous. As much as it felt wrong to consider it, I wondered if I had mistaken one for the other. Once again, I was treading into dangerous territory. The moment I began to see the humanity in Adrian was the moment I truly betrayed my people.
“I can be anything. Your jailor, your savior, your lover.” His mouth was closer to my ear as he added, “Your monster.”
We continued in silence for a few moments as I turned over Adrian’s words. The more I considered what I’d learned of the past, the more questions I had.
“If your witches were so powerful, why did they not defend themselves?”
“What do you know about witches?”
I hesitated. I knew what I had been told. We had been taught to fear witches since we were young. Quiet, Nadia would tell me, or the witches will steal you away and gobble you whole! As I had gotten older, they had morphed into something far more evil, their atrocities shared via the histories transcribed by royal librarians and scholars of Cordova. They described a group of women who conspired to starve and kill kingdoms, spelling kings to tax and go to battle, hoping the people of Cordova would turn to them for support.
It was a twisted road to power.
But Dragos had discovered their plan and called for the hunt. The years following were full of fire and a fear of magic.
“None of that is true,” Adrian said.
“And I am supposed to believe you over a lifetime of history?” I challenged.
I felt him shrug. “History is just perspective. It changes depending on your side.”
“Then tell me yours.”
He took a moment to continue, and I wondered what gave him pause. At last, he spoke. “Two hundred years ago, a coven governed magic in Cordova. They were called High Coven, and they were dedicated to ensuring the practice of magic remained peaceful. These witches you think of as evil, they only wanted to nurture humanity and earth.
“But their leader saw opportunities to grow, to cultivate peace, so she assigned a witch to each kingdom. They would be a bridge between the king, his people, and the land. They were never meant to be weapons, but that was what Dragos wanted, and when they refused, he had them—and thousands of innocents—killed. So you see, your hero is really the villain.”
“No one is that good,” I said, unwilling to believe that the witches had motives so pure.
“No one should be.”
I was not completely willing to change my mind about witches and witchcraft, and it was difficult to believe that Dragos wasn’t merely doing what Adrian would do as a king. Had he not chosen to execute my people for their treason too?
“And you? Who were you all those years ago?” I asked.
Adrian wished to lecture me on the past but never brought up his own, and I wanted to know—who had he been before the curse?
I felt his body go rigid against mine as he answered, “A different person.”
We did not speak after that, traveling only a few hours more before stopping to camp. Adrian brought a pail of hot water from a nearby spring that I used to freshen up. Once we arrived at the Red Palace, the first thing I would do was order a hot bath. My body and bones demanded it.
Since we had been on the road, I’d developed a bit of a routine, going straight to the tent to sleep, but as dawn drew nearer, I felt restless. I stepped outside, scanning the grounds for Adrian, who was nowhere in sight. A few feet in front of me was a fire the vampires had built Where Sorin sat there with Isac and Miha. When they saw me, they waved me over.
“Join us, my queen!” Sorin said, holding up a wooden cup.
Curious, I approached but kept my distance, not liking how close they sat to the sparking fire or the way the wind blew the flames this way and that. Perhaps it was an irrational fear, to catch aflame, but it was my fear all the same.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“Mead,” he said.
“Is that something you will throw up later?”
He shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
Isac laughed and Miha rolled her eyes.
“Where is Adrian?” I asked.
“The king is feeding,” said Isac. His long hair was pulled into a knot at the back of his head, and he lounged on the ground, his back propped up against a rock.