Then my body went rigid, and I spun as two hands landed on either side of my face. A man blocked me with his large body. He seemed familiar somehow, with short, dark hair and a well-trimmed beard and mustache. He did not have any astounding features, but his clothes seemed to make up for that. He wore rich, fur-lined velvet with gold clasps and a crown upon his head that was heavily embellished with jewels.
“Shh,” he said and gripped my chin, two ring-encrusted fingers covering my mouth so I could not speak. “You will listen. Your coven will follow my commands, and you will be the one to change their minds, understand?”
I did not know what he was talking about—my coven? Even so, I could feel myself glaring at him.
“And if you do not, I will kill every last one of you. Do you understand? Not just your coven but every witch in this land.”
There was silence as the man studied me, and after a moment, he leaned closer, his lips hovering near mine.
“But for you, it will be a different end.” His fingers moved from my mouth, and then his lips closed over mine. His kiss was bitter and rough, and as he pushed into my body and his tongue attempted to pry my mouth open with his, I fought him, lashing out with my blade. He staggered back. Pressing a palm to his chest, it came away bloody.
“You little bitch!”
He reached for me and yanked my hair.
“I will kill you,” he threatened.
“Kill me then,” I said. I spoke the words and felt the relief of them—if he killed me, I would not have to betray myself or my coven, but even he saw the truth of that within my eyes, and his hold relaxed on my hair.
“No,” he said. “I think life is a greater punishment for you.”
He released me with a jerk, and I fell against the shelf, still clutching my bloodied blade. He glanced at it and laughed.
“Remember what I said.”
In the next second, he vanished. I blinked and realized I was alone, standing with the book and knife in my hand, unbloodied. I turned in a circle, my heart still racing from the encounter with the man, but saw no one.
I was truly alone.
I curled my fingers around the knife, wondering if it possessed some kind of enchantment, but if so, what was its purpose? I could not be certain whose mind I’d inhabited, but something inside me knew it was Yesenia. It was the same knowing I’d felt when I’d looked upon Adrian—a strange connection that I could not deny. And I’d just witnessed Dragos, the deceased king of Revekka, threaten her life.
I would have thought I was imagining things if my heart wasn’t still racing from the encounter and my hand still shaking.
Suddenly, I questioned just how much knowledge I wanted about the past, because it was turning out that I knew nothing about the world I lived in, and I was angry. Angry because I had not known and angry because the one person who was telling me the truth happened to be my greatest enemy.
Sixteen
The next day, I was surprised to receive a letter from Nadia.
“When did this arrive?” I asked Vesna, who was alone while Violeta worked in the kitchens to help with preparations for the Burning Rites feast.
Vesna had come to help me prepare for tonight’s hunt, an event Adrian did not yet know I would be attending. My outfit was far more comfortable than anything I’d worn since my arrival in Revekka—a black tunic and leggings which I tucked into knee-high boots of the same color. Over the outfit, I wore a snug jacket that was cut short in the front and longer in the back.
“Just this morning, my queen,” she said. “Sorin brought it.”
Sorin? Was he traveling to and from Lara while searching for Ravena? I had no idea.
“Would you like some privacy? While you read?”
I smiled at her. “Please, Vesna. Thank you.”
I was not sure how I’d respond as I began the letter. I feared my own emotions at this point. My heart and chest already felt as though they were being crushed by the absence of my father and of Nadia. I wasn’t sure what would happen once I saw her handwriting or read her words. There was also a part of me that felt dread—would she blame me for the coup? Would she continue to inquire as to why Adrian was not yet dead?
When Vesna left, I tore open the envelope and unfolded the heavy parchment to find Nadia’s familiar handwriting.
Issi, she’d written, and I pressed my hand to my mouth to keep from sobbing. No one had called me Issi since I’d left Lara.
I must admit my surprise when one of the Blood King’s soldiers agreed to carry my letter to you. I suppose I should wait until I receive confirmation you have received it to be impressed. Nevertheless, I miss you. Your father misses you. I have never seen him so forlorn. It makes me ever eager for your return. Commander Killian told us of your attack, and I would not have believed it had we not had our own uprising, but, Issi, my dear, it is not as if the whole of Lara feels betrayed. There are many of us who trust your plan and know you have not forgotten your cause. Think often of us, especially your father. He is lost without you.