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“She was brave,” I said.
And while we had hung those responsible for her death today, the two I blamed most remained free—Solaris and Ravena.
“You said Solaris is awaiting punishment?”
“He is,” Adrian replied, his expression growing hard. I knew he was preparing to argue with me.
“Let me execute it,” I said.
Adrian stared at me, assessing. “Are you going to punish him or kill him?” Adrian asked.
I glared, and my anger burned my skin. I pushed past him and left Violeta’s room.
“Isolde!” Adrian followed close behind and reached for my arm, turning me toward him. I jerked away.
“When will the value of our people exceed the value of your agenda? When willmyvalue exceed it?”
Adrian flinched.
“Solaris might as well have been in that grove himself, striking and beating and murderingus. Will you stand aside while he inspires another witch hunt?”
Adrian closed the distance between us, his hands on my shoulders. He spoke between his teeth, eyes flashing with fury.
“How dare you,” he growled. “Howdareyou.”
They seemed to be the only words he could manage to speak.
Then he released me and took a step away, vibrating with his rage. “If it will make you happy, I will kill him today,” he said. “But if what he claims is true, if he is a creation of Dis, you should know that I will suffer.”
I studied him, his face red, the veins in his neck and forehead popping.
“What are you saying?”
“You seem to forget I was created by Dis,” he said. “I am not completely free to do as I please without consequences. I do not want one of those consequences to be you.”
I studied him and then narrowed my eyes. “How much control does she have over you?”
His chest rose and fell heavily, and I knew he did not wish to say, but after a heavy pause, he spoke. “More and more each day.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
He said nothing. He had not wanted to admit this—he saw it as a weakness.
“How do we free you?” I asked, my voice a whisper, as if I could hide it from Dis.
He looked away, swallowing hard, and ignored my question. “Come, it’s time for Solaris’s punishment.”
***
Adrian escorted me to the dungeons, into a chamber furnished with torture devices and weapons. I studied each, curious. There was a box lined with spikes, a triangular beam supported by two columns, a rack with straps for the wrists and ankles. Then there were smaller tools—a collar of spikes, metal bridles, and various sharp scissor-like instruments.
“Did these belong to Dragos?” I asked.
“No,” Adrian said, though he did not elaborate.
When I turned to him, he was placing an iron rod into the fire.
“What is that?” I asked.
