“Why not both?”
“One or the other, Isolde, but if you choose to fight, I will take you back to the palace. I will not be distracted out here where you are most at risk.”
“Fine,” I said, feeling a little silly. “No fighting then.”
There was a stretch of silence.
“Sorin has been on Ravena’s trail for a while, long before the attacks in Vaida and Sadovea.”
“Oh.”
Once again, I felt silly, and I wanted to deflect, to find a reason to be justified in my anger despite what Adrian had said about fighting. But then his hand hooked around my head and his lips crashed down upon mine. I groaned at the hunger with which he devoured my mouth, met each thrust of his tongue just as hungrily.
Yes, I thought. This. This is what I want. What I need.
I hated needing anything, but this, I could not deny, and I wouldn’t have stopped if it wasn’t for a high-pitched screech that made my blood run cold.
“What was that?” I asked, pulling away from Adrian’s mouth. My lips felt raw from his kiss.
Adrian chuckled. “Just an owl.”
“We need to leave.”
Owls were an omen of death.
It was one of few beliefs my father had carried with him from my mother’s culture because he had seen it—carriages overturned or attacked, squadrons wiped out, all moments after an owl crossed their path.
The hysteria in my voice must have convinced him, because his body went rigid against mine. “Okay.”
But as the word left his mouth, Shadow began to neigh and shiver. Adrian held tight on the reins just as a creature came out of the tree line. It was tall and thin with nails that were long and sharp, covered in blood. Its hair was wet and stringy, shielding a face of overly expressive features, including a wide mouth full of sharp teeth.
It was an alp, no doubt drawn to us because of Shadow, who sensed the danger.
“Isolde,” Adrian said. “Take the reins and go back to the castle.”
I did as he instructed, and he slid off Shadow’s back, landing soundlessly on the ground. Adrian took a few steps toward the monster, but the creature did not take its eyes off me.
“This will not end well for you,” Adrian said, drawing his blade.
The alp hissed, wiggling its sharp claws, and without so much as a warning, it launched itself at me.
Shadow bucked, neighing wildly before darting into the darkness of the trees, his fear keeping him moving forward. All the while, branches whipped my face, arms, and legs. I pressed my thighs into his side and pulled the reins, but nothing seemed to slow him down, so I dropped one rein and gripped the other in my hands, pulling it toward my hip. Just as Shadow started to slow, he bucked, and as I hit the ground, he darted away. The impact of my fall stole my breath, and I lay there for a moment, fighting dizziness and a sudden pain in my ribs, until I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.
I rolled and looked up into the face of the ginger-haired woman whom I’d seen in the reflection of the window and the hall of mirrors.
“It’s you,” I said, choking on a painful breath as I rose to my feet. “You’re Ravena, aren’t you?”
I kept one hand around my waist, but I was already thinking of how I might bring her down. I only had my knives, which meant I’d need to get close to her—too close.
“Clever little bird,” she said. “Though you always were.”
My brows furrowed, confused by her words.
Her eyes narrowed, and it made her look critical and cold.
“So it hasn’t happened yet.”
She spoke more to herself than me. Still, I could not help asking, “What are you talking about?”
“Adrian,” she said. “He has yet to partake of your blood.”
I did not answer her, though I wondered what that had to do with her. But it wasn’t a question I was willing to ask her. She was a different kind of enemy, and I felt like any information she might glean from me would lead to devastation.
Then she laughed.
“It is good that you have not changed much,” she said. “Same stubborn countenance, same obvious weaknesses.”
“What do you know about my weaknesses?” I asked, and as she answered, I worked to free one of the blades at my wrist. I’d prefer to attack her from a distance, uncertain of what kind of harm she might inflict once she had her hands on me.
“I know a lot about you, Issi,” she said, and I flinched at her words. “Tell me how conflicted you are between the love you have for your father and the love you have for Adrian.”