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I was surprised when Adrian stepped forward, drawing his sword, but the woman turned and ran into the fire. Her screams filled the air once more, guttural and violent, and as I watched her burn and her cries ceased, suffocated by the fire and the smoke, I wondered if her words were a threat or a prophecy.
Eight
Isolde
That night, I could not sleep, my mind racing with everything that had taken place in a matter of days. What stayed with me most were the words of the woman who had screamed her grief at us and how it had driven her to kill herself.
I had never watched anyone willingly burn, and perhaps it stayed with me so vividly because I had not had a choice in the way my life was taken. The more I thought about it, the more I recalled how the smoke had invaded my lungs and the feel of flames licking my skin. It was no wonder I had spent most of this life afraid of fire.
Restless, I rose from bed.
“Where are you going?” Adrian asked.
I looked at him, only able to make out the faint outline of his body in the dark.
“I cannot sleep,” I said.
“Stay with me,” he said, tugging me to him, and I relented, resting against him while he threaded his fingers through my hair. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
I was thinking of many things—of Ravena and the attack on Cel Ceredi. I was thinking about how I had shifted in the water on that cold night and had not felt inclined to do so since, but was worried about when it would happen again. I was thinking about High Council and how Razan seemed to hate me just as much as Gesalac and Julian. And I was thinking about my home, trying to nurse the ache in my chest over Nadia and worrying over the frenzy taking root among the people there.
“I am thinking about how I must return to Lara,” I answered finally.
Adrian did not speak, and I lifted my head to look at him, despite the dark.
“What areyouthinking?” I asked.
It took him a moment to answer. “I am thinking about how I do not want you to go.”
“You know that is not an option,” I said.
“Send Killian,” he said.
“Killian is not their ruler,” I said, the burn of frustration heating my face.
“He is dispensable,” Adrian said. “You are not.”
His words shocked me, and I pushed away from him.
“He is not dispensable to me,” I said. “And how dare you speak so callously of a man who fought for your people and helped them rebuild their village.”
Adrian sighed and sat up.
“You are right,” he said. “He has acted nobly, but I do not see why we could not send him to Lara in your stead.”
“And I do not see why I cannot go.”
“You think it wise to return to Lara alone as my wife and give news of your father’s death? Your people will believe I killed him.”
“I will tell the truth.”
“Your father played the role of a doting father well. No one will believe you.”
My heart sank, hurt by his words, though I knew they were true.
“I have to go back,” I said again, defiant.
“I will not let you go without me, and as of this moment, I cannot leave Revekka.”
