Queen of Myth and Monsters

Book 2: Adrian X Isolde

by Scarlett St. Clair

Genres: Fantasy Romance; Vampires; Romantic Fantasy; Epic Fantasy

Synopsis

The next book in the epic fantasy series by USA Today bestselling author Scarlett St. Clair.



Isolde, newly coronated queen, has finally found a king worthy of her in the vampire Adrian. But their love for each other has cost Isolde her father and her homeland. With two opposing goddesses playing mortals and vampires like chess pieces against one another, Isolde is uncertain who her allies are in the vampire stronghold of Revekka.



Now, as politics in the Red Palace grow more underhanded and a deadly blood mist threatens all of Cordova, Isolde must trust in the bond she's formed with Adrian, even as she learns troubling information about his complicated past.



Contains mature themes.

Release date: December 20, 2022

Publisher: Bloom Books

Print pages: 388

Sample

One

Isolde

Nine corpses were impaled outside the gates of the red palace.

I could see them now from the library window, aglow in the torchlight. Over the last two days, I had learned a lot about the process of impalement. Namely, that if done well, it could take hours, even days for the prisoner to die. It was a horrific death, and even more horrific to watch as each body slid slowly down, their weight inevitably driving the end of the spear through their mouth or throat or chest.

All the while, they begged any who passed to kill them faster, but no one came to their aid, not even me.

In the aftermath of Ravena’s attack, those who had betrayed our kingdom fled, but my husband was a merciless king. He had ordered his loyal noblesse to hunt, and he had joined them. In a day, they had captured the vassals who had supported Adrian’s former noblesse in their rebellion, and now they were a gruesome warning to anyone considering treason.

I wondered what it said about me and who I had become that I was not appalled by Adrian’s choice of punishment.

Even now, as I stared, I felt nothing but anger—anger toward those who had tried to hurt me, who had attempted to take away my power, who perceived me as weak.

Among them, my father, whose death had occurred by my hand.

You are worth every star in the sky, he’d said in the throne room of Lara when Adrian had asked for my hand. My father had been willing to go to war with the Blood King for me.

And perhaps he had meant it then, until I had given him another way to reclaim his kingdom and the rest of Cordova.

I still could not fathom it, could not come to terms with how everything had ended. My mind was a whirlwind of feelings, the greatest among them shock. My body was heavy with it, my chest tight with it, my eyes blind with it. Through my numbness, there were bursts of anger and sadness, each of them shaking my body, violent tremors that left me exhausted. Yet I could not sleep, because each time I closed my eyes, all I saw was my father, his face drained of affection, possessed by a determination to end my life because it would end Adrian’s too.

That haunting memory was how I’d found myself in the library before sunrise.

If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well research. Usually, I preferred the company of the librarian Lothian and his lover, Zann, but tonight I was glad for the quiet as I leafed through books on the history of witches.

Ravena had escaped with The Book of Dis, which she believed would give her the power she always wanted, though it likely would come at a grave price.

All spells cost something, but the toll for dark magic was life.

And yet I had been willing to pay that price two hundred years ago. Now I wondered why. I could not remember, just as I could not remember any of the spells I’d written in the book. I came here now to search the library’s archives in hopes that something from those texts would spur memories from my life as Yesenia.

So far, I’d only recalled a few things. I remembered High Coven and most of the relationships I’d formed with my sisters. I remembered Ravena, her betrayal, and her allegiance with King Dragos. Mostly, I remembered Adrian and the quiet way we fell in love, but those memories did not compare to the feeling of relief, the strange peace that came with knowing exactly who I was.

I had no conflict over my two lives—Yesenia was of the past, a life once lived. Now, I was Isolde Vasiliev, queen of Revekka, future queen of Cordova, and I was here to conquer.

“I do not particularly like waking alone,” Adrian said.

I turned to find him leaning against one of the ebony shelves lined with black-bound books. He wore a long robe, red and patterned in gold. His hair was unbound, falling in loose waves around his shoulders. His arms were crossed, and while he teased, I knew something more had driven him from bed—worry.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said.

He frowned, and my gaze lingered on his mouth before rising to meet his eyes. That was one thing that had changed in the two hundred years we had been apart—his eyes. Once, they had been blue, but now they were rimmed in white. I always assumed it had happened after he was turned, but then, no other vampire I had met since coming to Revekka had those eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, tilting his head. “Or wouldn’t?”

He knew the answer, so I asked a different question.

“Did I ever tell you about The Book of Dis?”

He shook his head. “No. You never told me about Dragos either.”

I had not told him of the former king’s abuse. A strange guilt blossomed in my chest, though I knew that was not what he intended.

It was my turn to frown as I searched for a reason for my silence.

“Though why would you?” he asked, and I met his gaze as he approached, his hand pressed against my cheek. “You were so far above me then.”

“Stop,” I said, the knot of guilt growing. It had not been about status at all. If Adrian had known, he would have killed Dragos, and while he had ultimately done so, it was in the aftermath of his victory over Revekka. “You know that isn’t true.”

“Ah, but it was,” he said, taking a step closer. His hand moved to my neck, his body flush with mine. I tilted my head all the way back to keep his gaze. “I was nothing but a glorified guard, but you—you were something more.”

I wrapped my hand around his wrist, not to push him away but to keep him close.

I shook my head, feeling something thick gathering in my throat. I could not help hearing the screams of my sisters—my coven—the night of their burning. It had been the first day of what would become the reaping and a complete decimation of every witch in Cordova.

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I got everyone killed,” I said.

“Dragos needed power, so he turned on the only people who had it,” Adrian said. “You were just a way to shift responsibility.”

I could barely breathe. When Adrian had taken my blood, I’d only known the consequences of the curse Dis had cast on him—that tasting my blood meant our lives were tied. If I died, he died. I did not know that the traumas of my past would also haunt me.

“Tell me how you killed him,” I whispered, searching his eyes.

Adrian tensed, his fingers pressing slightly into my skin. I wondered if he thought I would run, if he wasn’t quite convinced I was firmly rooted by his side, but there was nothing that would drive me away, save death.

“Will it help you to know?” he asked.

In truth, I did not know, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”

Still, he was quiet, but when he spoke, his gaze did not waver from mine, like he wanted to see how I changed with the knowledge of his execution of Dragos.

“I cut off his head. The blade was dull.”

I was not surprised by his choice of weapon or the brutal way in which he’d chosen to execute the former king of Revekka, and because of the last two days, I had no trouble imagining him hacking away at Dragos’s neck until his head rolled.

“And I kept it on a pike outside the gates where our treasonous dead are now. His body lay beneath it, and it was picked apart until it was nothing more than bones.”

“And the bones?” I had not imagined he would give Dragos the satisfaction of a burial in any form.

“Look closer at my throne the next time we hold court,” he said.

Something in the pit of my stomach twisted sharply. Adrian had built an empire on the bones of his greatest enemy. A month ago, I would have been disgusted, but life at Adrian’s court had changed my opinion on his brutality. There was no room for vulnerability here, no room for forgiveness. It was conquer or be killed.

Dragos had taught us that, and he had taken everything.

So had Ravena.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

I raised a brow. Adrian could hear my thoughts, but not always. I think it had become harder to break through the numbness that overwhelmed me since my father’s death. “You cannot tell?”

“Your emotions are quite tame,” he replied.

I didn’t believe him. I felt like chaos, but I respected that he asked.

“I am thinking about how I will fashion a throne from Ravena’s bones.”

The corners of Adrian’s lips curled, and he leaned closer, his breath on my lips as he spoke. “If that is your wish, I shall build it myself.”

Then his warm mouth was on mine, and his arm tightened around my waist. He was an anchor I grasped in the darkness of my grief, the only thing that brought feeling, and I craved this—his heat, our madness, the distraction.

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his biceps as his mouth left mine, lips trailing over my jaw and neck, his tongue caressing my skin, and I ceased to breathe when I felt the scrape of his teeth there. He seemed to notice and pulled away.

“I do not have to feed,” he said, his hand lifting to brush my cheek. “But I do want you.”

Adrian had not taken my blood since the night he had first fed from me. When I asked him, he said, “I need you strong.” And yet when dawn broke in a few hours, he would leave once more to hunt for the last two rebels—his former noblesse, Gesalac and Julian.

I needed him strong for that.

“I am well enough,” I said.

“You aren’t sleeping,” he said.

“Who needs sleep,” I said, rising on the tips of my toes and lacing my arms around his neck, “when there is so much we could do?”

His hands were on my hips, but he was still.

“Adrian,” I said, his name a breathless whisper, and my eyes fell to his lips once more, my fingers trailing his cheek. “Please.”

It wasn’t until I looked into his eyes that he caved, and his mouth collided with mine. I basked in the way my mind went blank, the horror and the anger of these last few days replaced by a blissful heat that seemed to swell, filling me to bursting, but making me aware of how much I needed this, needed him.

Adrian’s fingers dug into my skin, and he guided me until my back hit the wall where he pinned my wrists so he could kiss me uninhibited, lips tracing a path to my breasts, which he lavished with attention. Even through the fabric of my nightdress, the teasing was exquisite, and my hands were soon free to rake through his hair and drag his mouth back to mine.

Between us, Adrian untied his robe and hiked my shift up before lifting my leg, cradling the back of my knee over his arm, his erection pressed into my heat. I sucked in a sharp breath, my head falling back on a moan, exposing my neck, where he kissed and nipped at my skin, his voice a heady rumble.

“I love the way you taste,” he said, grinding into me until I felt too hollow, too empty.

“I need you inside me,” I said, my hands on his shoulders, ready to give him the leverage he needed to cure my desperation. “Give me your come and you can have my blood.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “Oh, Sparrow. I will fill you to bursting.”

Our position against the wall did not give me the opportunity to watch as he guided himself inside me, but I felt him, exhaling as he slid deeper and began to thrust. I couldn’t catch my breath as each wave of pleasure rose higher than the last. I was drowning in this and I never wanted to resurface.

“Isolde,” Adrian said, and I opened my eyes. He stared back, gaze fierce and lustful. “Look at me.”

He cupped the back of my neck, his other hand pressed flat to the wall, and he moved deeper, ground against me harder. I lost control of my expression, my mouth caught between moans, grinding my teeth, and biting my lip. When the first keening cry bubbled from my lips, Adrian descended, his sharp teeth cutting into my skin.

I clung to him, nails digging into his flesh. He still moved inside me, but slower, timing the pull of his lips with the thrust of his hips. He drew back once to kiss my mouth before returning to the wound he’d made, and with the taste of my blood on my lips, I followed each wave of pain and pleasure until it dragged me into darkness.

***

I woke with the memory of how Adrian had filled me and fucked me and bit me, and I had ascended into something ethereal and divine—something that had taken me from sorrow to bliss. I wanted to go back, to reclaim that power, but I was once more in this mournful body and confused.

How had I gotten to bed?

There was movement to my right, and I shifted to find Adrian standing near the window, bathed in the bloodred light of Revekka’s dawn. He wore armor that glinted gold and silver as he turned to look at me. He had pulled his hair back, and the angles of his face showed sharply, contoured by shadow.

He was fierce, frighteningly beautiful, and already bathed in red.

“Do you expect to be injured?” I asked as I sat up, pushing the blankets from my body, already feeling better without their weight. I had never seen Adrian wear armor, not when he came to claim my kingdom and not when we made our return to Revekka.

It startled me, and I had to work to swallow the panic that rose into my throat, knowing I could not protest his departure. This was necessary to the survival of our kingdom—to what Adrian had built and what we would continue to build together.

Adrian offered a small smile, as if he thought my concern was cute rather than valid.

“It’s merely a precaution,” he said. “I am no longer hunting mortals.”

Today he would search for Gesalac and Julian, whom Sorin had not been able to track beyond the borders of our land, which meant they were likely hiding, harbored by Revekkians. Or were they relying on the land for shelter until they could begin the next phase of their plan?

And what was that plan?

Of the two, I feared Gesalac more. He was the most outspoken and perhaps had the greatest vendetta against Adrian, as he had killed Gesalac’s son after I had grown annoyed by his continued harassment. I’d snapped when he’d touched me and drove a knife into his neck.

Adrian had finished the job.

Julian was less imposing, but he, like Gesalac, saw me as the enemy, and it was his opinion of me that had cost him his eye.

“Do you think you will find them?” I asked.

My lungs felt heavy in my chest, my breathing far too shallow.

I was afraid of what would happen if they managed to escape.

“Perhaps,” Adrian said. “They will likely seek refuge with kings whose petitions to become immortal I denied.”

Kings like Gheroghe of Vela, the slave king who conquered my mother’s people.

I rose to my feet.

“Can either of them sire vampires?” I asked.

“They can,” he said. “And they likely will.”

Under Adrian’s rule, only he held the authority to decide who became immortal. Anyone who disobeyed was executed, but Gesalac and Julian had signed their death warrants already. They had nothing to lose.

“What happens then?”

Adrian’s fingers tilted my chin as he answered, “I will kill them all.”

I should draw comfort from his confidence, and I had no doubt he would exact revenge, but would it come too late?

Adrian drew me from my thoughts with a kiss, a soft brush of his lips before he pulled me close. With our bodies pressed together, there was a shift in his behavior and his tongue drove into my mouth, hand tightening into my hair, knee coaxing my willing thighs apart. A moan caught in my throat as the friction of our bodies sparked a fever in my blood, filling, tightening, drenching.

I wanted to touch him, but my hands were barred by his armor. I questioned my power and his restraint. Could I convince him to delay?

But I also wanted this over. I wanted Gesalac and Julian caught. I wanted to watch their torture and their deaths.

Adrian must have sensed the change in my thoughts because he pulled away, mouth tense, eyes alight.

“You will rest today,” he said.

My lips flattened at his command, and very gently, he pulled my hair, guiding my head back, exposing my neck. He pressed his lips to the spot he had bitten in the library. It was healed now, but the memory lived on my skin.

I held my breath and shivered at the soft caress of his mouth. A wave of heat blossomed in my chest and made me light-headed.

As he pulled away, he studied me, twisting a piece of my hair around his lithe finger.

“You will rest today,” he said again. “If you want me tonight.”

“Are you attempting to bribe me?” I asked.

“I should not have taken your blood,” he said. “You could not handle it.”

“I feel fine,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter that you feel fine,” he said. “You lost consciousness.”

I frowned. “Why is that…bad?”

His hand loosened in my hair, and he brushed his thumb along my lips.

“You should always be alert when we are together,” he said. “When I took your blood, I was inside you. You went limp. You were gone. So yes, it is bad.”

I dropped my gaze. I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, even a little embarrassed. I hadn’t thought of what Adrian had experienced after I blacked out. Now I considered just how unnerved he must have been.

“Isolde,” he said in an attempt to draw my attention, but still I looked away, swallowing.

“I will rest,” I said, my tone far more cross than I intended.

“Isolde,” he repeated quietly, and when I finally met his gaze, his stare was gentle. “You are my light.”

I took his face between my hands.

“You are my darkness,” I said and kissed him.

We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he took a step away, and I felt the distance sink into my heart.

“Will you see me off?” he asked.

“Of course.”

I was still wearing my shift and did not want to delay Adrian by returning to my room to dress. Instead, he offered a woolen overcoat. The fabric was heavy, the sleeves too long, but it was warm and smelled like him.

We walked in silence, my hand on Adrian’s arm, and when the doors opened to the courtyard, a wave of cold air stole my breath. Frost had settled on the stones, gleaming like bloody webs beneath the sun’s light.

Adrian’s men were gathered there with their horses, and at our appearance, they knelt, rising at his command. Some were soldiers, others noblesse, and while none here had aligned themselves with Gesalac and Julian, I couldn’t help questioning their loyalty to Adrian. Since I’d joined him here, he had lost four of the nine noblesse.

Were the rest merely biding their time before they struck?

Suddenly my stomach churned. If they chose today to attack, could Adrian take them?

My gaze shifted to Daroc, Adrian’s general, and Sorin, his lover. Visually, the two made a stunning pair, but they could not be more different. Daroc, with his strong and angled features, always looked severe, his eyes piercing, as if he were trying to read everyone’s mind, and perhaps he could, but I’d learned from the start that vampires did not willingly tell their abilities. Even Sorin, who was the most forthright, had not told me he could shift into the form of a falcon. I’d learned that by chance when he had come to my rescue in the woods after being attacked by Ravena and mist-possessed Ciro. Looking at him now with his soft features and dimpled smile, I found it hard to believe he could be anything but good.

And yet someone had told Ravena that Adrian had tasted my blood. The act made me his greatest weakness—our lives were bound.

I have waited centuries for this. For you, Adrian had said. He had been so willing, comforted in the knowledge that he could trust the four who knew the consequences of the bloodletting—Daroc, Sorin, Adrian’s cousin Ana Maria, and his viceroy, Tanaka—and yet as it turned out, we could trust no one.

I took a deep breath, attempting to release the tension tightening my chest at having such a weakness known to my greatest enemy, and faced Adrian, who drew my hand to his lips, his eyes burning into mine.

“We will return at sundown.”

The words were a fierce promise, and I held them close to my heart. He claimed my mouth in a searing kiss, drawing his thumb over my bottom lip as he pulled away.

“See that you do,” I said, and he turned and mounted Shadow. I wanted him back already, but I also wanted him to return tonight, triumphant, with Gesalac and Julian as our prisoners.

With a final look, he rode out, his men falling into step behind him. They left through the gate, and I followed, watching as they cut a path through the nine impaled bodies that decorated our doorstep.

Not even the cold air could keep the smell of decay at bay. It tinged the air—subtle but sour—and it turned my stomach. Still, I kept watch until I could no longer see Adrian descending the sheer pathway into the valley of Cel Ceredi. Only then did I move, climbing to the tower wall where I tracked them, racing through the city, to the outer wall—a streak of shadows cloaked in red as they dashed into the darkened forest. Even when they left my sight, I lingered.

“Come inside, my queen,” said Tanaka, breathless from toiling his way up the stone steps behind me. I wondered when he’d joined us in the courtyard. I had not noticed him before.

Tanaka, Adrian’s viceroy, was older than any other vampire I had met. His skin was white and wrinkled, even on his cheeks, and while his hair was still dark, it had receded nearly to the back of his head.

I wondered at his age and why he was changed so late in his life. Despite having a few memories from my past life as Yesenia, I did not remember this man or his connection to Adrian, though it was possible he grown closer to Adrian in the two hundred years since my death.

A lot had happened in my absence.

“My queen?” Tanaka asked.

“I am not quite ready,” I said, not looking at the old man.

“But it is cold,” he said.

I did not mind the cold. It, at least, allowed me to feel something beyond the strange, distant numbness that had consumed my body since my father’s death.

“If you are uncomfortable, you may return to the palace,” I replied.

He huffed out a breath and tried once more. “Adrian will be very cross with me if you were to catch a cold.”

“Then I will be sure to protect you from his wrath,” I said, though my reply felt distant, even to my ears. I was distracted, but by nothing in particular, truly unable to focus on one line of thinking. It was as if my mind were a puzzle, and since the bloodletting and betrayal, I had been trying to piece together a picture of my world—its truths and its lies.

I lingered on the tower wall for a few minutes longer. Tanaka did not try to convince me to return to the palace again, and he did not leave my side. I wondered why he stayed. Was it out of true loyalty to Adrian or a ruse?

“Winter is upon us,” said Tanaka, his voice quiet, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

I glanced at him, and he nodded toward the eastern sky where clouds gathered, thick and heavy, full of a coming storm.

“It will be snowing by sundown.”

I frowned. Winters in Revekka were harsh, and while I doubted it would affect Adrian, I worried for those outside our city.

“Is Revekka prepared?”

The blood mist was still a threat, and with fewer noblesse, could the others survive?

“We will do the best we can,” he replied.

“What is your best?” I asked, and when I looked at Tanaka, he had frozen, mouth ajar as if his answer was stuck in his throat, or perhaps he did not have one at all. After a moment, he composed himself.

“These are winter folk, my queen. They know how to survive.”

As much as I desired to remain outside awaiting Adrian’s return, I was queen of Revekka, and while my husband hunted, I would plan.

This world thought they knew a conqueror when Adrian had been born, but they had yet to feel my wrath.

“I must speak with Gavriel,” I said, determined to gather information about Lara. Unfortunately for Adrian, I had no intention of resting. “Summon him to the garden.”

With a final look at the horizon, I left the wall.

Two

Isolde

I returned to my quarters, parting ways with Tanaka at the base of the stairs. I was chilled to my core, my skin so cold it felt tight over my bones and my long hair tangled after spending so much time in the wind, but with each step, my body thawed and I continued to plan.

I would have to return to Lara eventually, along with Killian, and preferably before news of my father’s death spread. I had little faith that I would be welcomed by my people and even less faith that the Nine Houses—or what remained of them—would allow my coronation to take place. And while I knew Adrian could force anything I desired, I did not wish to conquer that way.

Becoming the first queen of Lara mattered. It was how I had always imagined my life, and even though it was unfolding differently, I wanted it no less. And it was not only Lara I wished to possess. I wanted Vela. I wanted to watch the life drain from King Gheorghe’s face as I conquered his kingdom, reclaimed my mother’s homeland, and freed her people—my people. As badly as I would have liked to leave tomorrow, I knew the consequences would be disastrous. Things had to settle in Revekka, and I hoped in that time I would learn Ravena’s intentions with The Book of Dis.

By the time I crested the steps that led to my private room, my heart was filled with fire and vengeance.

As I approached, I heard Violeta and Vesna, my ladies-in-waiting. I paused for a moment, trying to catch pieces of their conversation, but their voices filtered through my closed door, a low murmur of unintelligible words. There was a part of me that felt guilty that I would seek to spy, and yet my trust in others had been crushed and I no longer felt confident in my ability to discern friend from enemy, no matter their role or age.

So I listened a while longer and only caught a few words.

Mother. Jasenka. Kseniya.

Vesna was talking about her family, likely that they were making the move from their small village in Jovea to Cel Ceredi this week. Adrian had appointed Tanaka to find them a small space to rent after I had asked to relocate them. I had many reasons for the request—I did not like seeing Vesna so sad and preferred that she was able to return home to her sisters nightly, and perhaps I felt just the slightest bit of guilt given that I was the reason they were fatherless, but I had not thought beyond the knife in my hand when the man had come to my court, offering his daughter to my husband as a concubine in exchange for immortality.

So I’d taken Vesna and offered him the opposite.

While I knew how Vesna was handling the situation, I was not so certain about her mother or her two younger sisters. I had taken a husband and a father, and despite his abusive nature, emotions always complicated truths.

Would they see me as their liberator or a murderer?

And did it even matter? I was their queen.

I pushed those thoughts aside and entered my chambers. Violeta and Vesna stopped speaking and stood immediately. I could not help the suspicion that clawed at my stomach with their sudden silence.

“My queen,” they said in unison, dipping into curtsies.

“I have much to attend to today,” I said, crossing to my armoire to choose a dress. I had no intention of languidly preparing for the day. I felt as though that luxury was gone, suitable only for a queen who did not intend to rule.

“Of course,” Violeta said. “Will you not eat first, my queen?”

“No,” I said. Even at the mention of food, my stomach twisted. Everything I had consumed since my father’s death tasted burnt, but I offered no explanation.

I had no doubt that the two were attempting to abide by orders Adrian had given, but little could be done when I refused.

I chose a dress—light blue with gold threading. The neckline was scooped, the skirt, though tulle, was sleek, and the sleeves were long, which would keep me warm enough within the castle walls as the storm moved in.

Once I was changed, I smoothed my hair in the mirror. Normally, Violeta would attempt some sort of braid or twist, but I only needed it tame enough to wear my mother’s pearl tiara. It seemed fitting, on the heels of my father’s betrayal, to honor her memory instead. Though it did not feel sufficient, I had little else. My attachment to her and her people was an ache I felt deep in my bones. It was part of my soul that had fractured at birth and would never heal.

I would always mourn what could have been had my mother survived, had she taught me the ways of her world. I knew even if I managed to free the Nalani, I would always be different—never one of them but other. That was how it was when I had been princess of Lara, and it was the same now as queen of Revekka.

And even if I managed to free them, would I be seen as just another conqueror, or would they see me as one of them?

Violeta brought over my tiara. I’d last worn it the day my kingdom had fallen under Adrian’s rule, the day he had asked to marry me. It was a simple piece, a silver band set with fresh pearls. Of the items left from my mother, this was my favorite. It was the crown she had worn in her wedding portrait.

I now wondered under what circumstances it had been given to her. Was it a gift from her mother and father, offered with understanding that her marriage to my father would mean a peaceful alliance? Or was it one of the few possessions she had managed to bring with her when my father had taken her as a prisoner?

I turned to the mirror and placed the crown on my head, searching my face for my mother’s features, but all that reflected back were my father’s—his deep frown, his hollow cheeks, his troubled brow.

I looked miserable.

I turned from the mirror to find Violeta holding a pair of pearl earrings.

“You should wear these, my queen,” Violeta said.

They had also been my mother’s, and despite how many times I had worn them, seeing them now brought tears to my eyes. I took a deep breath, swallowing the strange wave of emotion that welled in my blood.

“Thank you, Violeta.”

I took the earrings and refused to look in the mirror as I hooked them in place. When a knock sounded at the door, I stiffened, my body tense with frustration.

Violeta and Vesna looked at me.

“We can tell them you are busy,” Vesna said. “It is not untrue.”

It wasn’t, but no matter how quickly I got to my agenda today, the events I had planned would take time to unfold. Besides, what if Ana had come to speak with me? I did not want to miss the chance to see her, especially given that I had much to discuss with her, including her use of magic.

“Answer it,” I said.

Vesna obeyed, and when she opened the door, I recognized the voice on the other side.

I sighed, and before Vesna could announce his presence, I said, “Come in, Killian.”

The commander of Lara’s military—and one of my former lovers—entered my quarters. He was dressed in black—not because he was mourning but because he could not bring himself to wear the blue of Lara, nor the red of Revekka. Despite how my father’s betrayal had hurt him, he was not yet ready to embrace my kingdom even though he had fought at my side against Gesalac and the crimson mist.

“My queen,” he said and bowed.

“You shaved,” I said, surprised to see that his long beard was trimmed close to his skin. He had not shaved since he had started growing facial hair. I had never cared for his beard, but I thought that perhaps he kept it because his father had kept one too. I wondered if this was his way of distancing himself from the loyalty he had to King Henri.

“Y-yes,” he said and ran a hand over the back of his head. “I hoped for a moment of your time today.”

“By today, I’m assuming you mean now.”

His eyes shifted to Violeta and Vesna. “A moment…alone.”

Alone. The word straightened my spine and sent my heart racing. I did not wish to be alone with anyone but Adrian. At the same time, my chest tightened with guilt. Killian had helped me and was just as devastated by my father’s betrayal. But while I knew he was loyal to me, would he also be loyal to my husband?

“I am afraid I have no time this morning,” I said. “I must meet with Gavriel.”

Killian’s shoulders stiffened. “Why?”

The word tumbled out of his mouth unceremoniously.

“I have questions about Lara,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment, likely wishing to contain his initial reaction, but he did not need to because I knew how he felt. It was the same way I had felt any time he had minimized my concerns regarding Lara’s politics or defenses.

“Do you not trust me?” Killian asked.

“This has nothing to do with trust.”

“Then why not ask me?” he said.

“Because you are too close,” I said. “I need the truth.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” he asked.

I clenched my fist to keep from rolling my eyes. “No,” I said. “Unless you knew my father intended to kill me when he arrived here. Then I would call you a liar. Then I would call you a traitor.”

Killian paled, and when he spoke, his voice was a quiet rumble. It hinted at the pain I had caused with those few words. “You cannot think I would have let him hurt you.” When I did not speak, he continued. “If I had known his intentions, he would not have made it beyond the borders of Lara.”

There was a part of me that had expected Killian to justify my father’s decision because he had been just as upset when he’d come to Revekka and discovered that not only did the Blood King still live, I was in love with him. Instead, Killian attempted to protect me.

“I wish I had known,” he added. “I would have liked to spare you this agony.”

There was a lot to say about Killian and the complicated nature of our friendship, but perhaps his greatest attribute was his loyalty—not to crown or title but to me.

“I do not doubt you,” I said. “But it is for that reason I must speak with Gavriel. Your view of Lara was influenced by my father. How are either of us to know the truth?”

“Is that an invitation to join you?” he asked.

I studied him briefly and then said, “Only if you agree to wear my colors.”

His jaw tightened. “Which colors?”

“Red for Revekka, blue for Lara, and gray…for when I conquer Vela and free my mother’s people.”

“You wish to conquer Vela?” he asked, his brows raising.

“I will conquer Vela,” I said. “I will burn it to the ground.”

***

Killian waited outside my door while Violeta helped lace up my boots and clasped a blue, fur-lined cloak around my shoulders. Despite the cold, I did not wish to meet Gavriel within the castle. I did not trust its walls with their hidden passages and concealed doors—anyone might happen upon us; anyone might listen. At least in the garden, it was harder to hide. More than that, however, it was a place from which I drew comfort and strength because it was where I felt closest to my mother, though I was miles away from her gardens in Lara—the ones my father had made certain survived long after her untimely death.

Once more, I found myself at odds with my father, whose love allowed for altars dedicated to my mother’s memory but no action toward what mattered most—the freedom of her people and the life of her daughter.

I led Killian outside through the entrance of the Red Palace, following a path that cut between green hedges and a set of stone steps that descended into the extensive gardens. It had grown colder since I’d seen Adrian off this morning, and I briefly wondered where he was now, if he had any luck locating Gesalac or Julian, and when he would be home.

“Everything is still alive,” Killian said.

It was true—trees were still lush, flowers were still blooming, the hedges were thick—and yet snow whirled in the air, gathering in the crevices of leaves and petals, glittering red beneath the heavy sky.

“Winter falls upon us fast,” said a voice, and I whirled to find Gavriel pushing away from the castle wall on which he had been leaning. He was an imposing figure, both because of his build and his height. As he approached, he scanned the landscape, eyes squinted, adding, “Everything will die soon.”

His words felt ominous and sent a chill up my spine.

I’d only had one interaction with Gavriel before today and it had been after I had discovered the desecration of Vaida in Lara. Adrian had assigned him to stay at Castle Fiora, and there he had remained until my father made the journey to Revekka for my coronation.

Now I wondered what would have happened had they not come at all.

Gavriel bowed low before me.

“My queen, Commander Killian,” he said and straightened. “I apologize. I did not mean to startle you.”

“I did not expect you so early,” I said.

He grinned. “It would have been in poor taste to be late for a meeting with my queen.”

I studied the vampire, curious about his speech.

“Where are you from, Gavriel?”

“Keziah,” he said.

I did not know much about Keziah, save that their ruler had refused to join the nine kings who would make up the Nine Houses of Cordova. They had not been the only country in Cordova to do so, preferring not to organize against the Blood King or take his side. Among the Nine Houses, their choice was perceived as indecision—a weakness that needed to be eradicated. And yet when the Nine Houses organized an army to move against Keziah, they found its people were anything but weak. They had fought ruthlessly to maintain control over their land and the kings of the Nine Houses were forced to retreat.

Every year, the kings would meet for assembly to discuss their so-called unified approach to ruling the houses. To the disdain of most in attendance, my father brought me along after I turned sixteen, and it was there I learned the true fears of men—anything more powerful than them.

The kings would malign Keziah, embarrassed by how they had been beaten so brutally, but they never approached the subject of invasion again.

I recalled deciding then that if I were ever going to go to war against the vampires, I wanted Keziah on my side.

How time had changed things.

“How long have you served my husband?”

“Ten years,” he replied.

“So little?”

He chuckled. “Not all of us were born centuries ago. I left for Revekka as soon as I came of age to swear allegiance to King Adrian.”

“I did not think Keziah wanted vampire rule,” I said.

“My people are proud and very brave, but even they are not strong enough to survive what this world has become.”

I wondered what he would do if Adrian failed to protect Keziah.

“If you are trying to determine the depth of my loyalty, perhaps you should ask me. It would save us both time, given that we have so very little of it.”

“It is not your loyalty to Adrian I wish to assess,” I said. “It is your loyalty to me.”

“You are one and the same.”

His statement did not put me at ease. Rather, disappointment blossomed in my chest. I wished to be Adrian’s equal, but equality did not mean we were the same.

“How wrong you are,” I said. I took a breath and asked, “How are my people?”

“Agitated, uncertain,” he said.

I had expected such news, but hearing it was disheartening.

“The news about the destruction of Vaida spread quickly, and on the heels of your marriage to Adrian, some of your people believe he broke his promise to protect them.”

I glanced at Killian, who had once assumed the same.

“And the Sanctuary of Asha is not helping,” Gavriel added.

My gaze snapped back to him. “The sanctuary?”

“You’ve a priestess there who claims Asha has sent their salvation.”

Despite the strong presence of goddesses within my life, in the lives of everyone in Cordova, I had never been religious. I could not fathom worshipping anyone who had taken my mother from me so young, but I would be stupid if I did not acknowledge either of the goddesses’ power. And true power it was, because it was strong enough to have created Adrian.

“Have you heard this?” I asked Killian, who shrugged, then shook his head.

“A few whispers here and there,” he said. “Nothing more. I certainly have not seen any evidence that it is true.”

“You don’t need evidence when people have faith,” I said. The mere fact that anyone would believe the priestess or trust the veracity of her words was dangerous—especially to my rule.

“How do we know this isn’t some falsehood spread by the priestess?” I asked.

“We don’t,” said Gavriel.

“Find out,” I said.

“As you wish,” he said. “Anything more, my queen?”

“Return to Lara tomorrow,” I said. “Tell the court my father has decided to extend his stay in Revekka.”

I thought about embellishing, adding that King Henri had missed his daughter too much to stay only a week, but I could not manage to speak the words.

“My loyalty is to you, my queen.” Gavriel bowed, accepting my orders, and left.

With Gavriel’s departure, I remained silent for a long moment, considering his words. I’d known returning to Lara would not be easy, given how I had been treated upon my departure, but this certainly complicated my plans.

“With rumors of the salvation of Asha, what of Nadia?” I asked Killian, my voice hushed.

Nadia, my maid, the woman who had helped raise me, was a passionate follower of Asha, and I could not help hearing her voice as Gavriel’s warning played through my mind.

Asha is our savior, she would say. She will send our salvation.

When? I asked. After we are all dead?

Insolent child, the goddess gave you life!

My mother gave me life, I said. She died for me too.

When Killian did not answer, I met his gaze. I knew what he would say before the words left his mouth, and yet I could not protect myself from the pain, the heartache, of knowing she would never choose me.

“Nadia loves you,” he said. “But she loves her goddess more.”

I might have flinched had it not been for a bell signaling, sharp and frantic, so loud it echoed in my bones.

“What is that?” Killian asked, and though I had never heard the sound before, my heart raced with it, frenzied and panicked.

“Something horrible,” I said, a sudden lump forming in the back of my throat.