Page 95

“Because you have some fantasy attached to turning me?”

A shock of anger flashed in his eyes, and he looked away from me, his jaw clenched.

“I want to do what is best for you,” he said. “You have not even managed to accept or master shifting. You need time before you have to handle another change in your life.”

“I cannot be responsible for your death,” I said. “I can’t.”

“You won’t.” He spoke with a conviction I did not have.

He lifted his hand once more, slowly this time, to prepare me, and as he stroked my face, I leaned forward and kissed him. It was soft, barely a kiss at all, but the gentleness of it spoke to our pain, our fear, our love.

“I will call for a bath,” he said. “We must prepare for the executions.”

Adrian rang the servant’s bell, and my heart rose into my throat when the first knock came. It should have been Violeta waiting on the other side, directing the other servants as they filled the tub with water. Instead, a string of people I hardly recognized entered, carrying pail after pail of hot water into the room.

“Where is Vesna?” I asked.

“She will be along after your bath,” Adrian said, meeting my gaze. “I…wanted this time with you.”

I did not mind spending more time with him.

When the servants had gone, I untied my nightgown and let it pool at my feet, leaving Violeta’s necklace on, before stepping into the bath. Adrian watched me as I lowered into the water, but his gaze was different, not alight with desire but a strange intensity. I wondered if he was trying to prepare himself for the last time he saw my body—likely bruised and broken and bloodied.

He waited to approach until I was submerged in the water and knelt beside the bath.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and I nodded.

He lathered soap on a washcloth and began at my back, running the cloth over my skin in soft circles. There were places he touched that were sore, muscles that ached, and as he passed over them, I took a breath, releasing it slowly between my lips. When he moved to my shoulders and arms, his expression was hard, his mouth tight. I lifted my hand to his face, water dripping from my skin. I had no words to offer, but he met my gaze, eyes glassy.

“You should finish,” he said, taking my hand from his face, offering the washcloth.

“It’s all right,” I said, voice hushed, holding my breath as I guided his hand over my breasts.

“Isolde,” Adrian said tightly.

“Shh,” I said and rested my forehead against his, moving his hand lower, down my stomach and between my thighs. His lips hovered near mine and his breathing grew ragged, but he did not attempt to touch me beyond my direction. I became frustrated, the heat between my thighs unbearable.

“Adrian,” I whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I love you.”

He kissed me hard, his free hand gripping the base of my skull. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he lifted me from the tub, but when he pressed into my skin, I arched against him, a shock of pain escaping my mouth.

He froze, dropping his hands.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s okay.” I took his face between my hands and forced him to look at me, but when I tried to kiss him again, he drew away and it hurt.

“I’ll summon Vesna,” he said.

“Adrian—”

“I will not be responsible for hurting you further,” he said. “I can’t.”

I brought my hands to my chest, feeling strangely exposed and ridiculous before my own husband. I hated it. He crossed the room to ring the bell, and I sought my robe, desperate to hide.

Neither of us spoke, and when the knock came at the door, though I knew to expect it, I was not prepared to see Vesna. It was evident she had been crying; her eyes were rimmed in red and puffy. I crossed the room to her and held her tight. We cried together, even as she helped me dress, both of us very much aware that this was Violeta’s role. Adrian sat and watched. His hands remained fisted, one on his thigh and one pressed against his mouth.

The dress was black with a lace overlay that pressed a pretty design against the collar of my neck. I chose to wear my mother’s pearl tiara because I liked the weight of it, liked to pretend it was somehow her laying her hands upon me.