Chapter Twenty-Three
Samara
We reached Limanos with the three moons nearly full overhead, so light it almost felt like day.
It might as well have been another world rather than just another city.
I rode sidesaddle on Contessa, behind Raphael. The horse had been decorated for the ride. It gave me a chance to better ogle at the throngs of people around.
“Who are all of these… creatures?” Pointed ears, rabbit ears, wings, skin of every color from green to gray. Bodies ranged in size and shape that even the most potent disguise magic in Ulryne couldn’t manage.
They moved differently too, some with even more grace than vampires, others even floating through the air on wings. The humans mixed in were easy to pick out. I could hear their heartbeats, loud, overwhelming. I waited for the vampire thirst to taunt me, but for once it had eased.
Thanks to Raphael’s blood.
“Citizens of Limanos,” Raphael replied. “Some of them, anyway. Others travel from the other kingdoms of western Eurobis to trade here. Others, from farther than that. With the festival beginning, there are more visitors than usual.”
Beyond Eurobis. Conceptually, I knew there was more to the world than the Witch Kingdom.
But from a young age, the world had been divided into witches, voids, and vampires.
My worldview had adjusted as I’d found my place in them—a witch tied to the eternal battle against vampires. That had made sense.
Now I was confronted with an assortment of different features that didn’t fit neatly into any of those categories.
“But what are they?” I pressed, still staring.
“Creatures with very good hearing,” Raphael chided softly while I earned more than a few looks.
Shame hit me. Just as every child was taught it was rude to bluntly ask what manner of magic someone had, or what age a lady had reached, this was surely just as crude. And a signal of my ignorance, to boot.
“Why haven’t I seen anything like this before?
” I asked, returning my voice to little more than a whisper so only Raphael could hear amidst the steady thump of Contessa’s hooves.
I hadn’t even read about them. Did the vampires block these creatures’ passage into the Witch Kingdom the same way they cut off the Witch Kingdom from the rest of the world?
It felt so natural to blame them. What other reason could there be? But something niggled in the back of my mind that the answer I was creating in my mind was too simple.
He pulled the reins and Contessa veered to the right. “The Witch Kingdom welcomes few who aren’t their own kind. They barely tolerate those they see as lesser among their own people.”
Voids. I didn’t meet his gaze, instead taking in more of the sights, the scents. Voids were witches, in a manner. We were all the same species. But because we—they—had no magic, they were relegated to a lesser status.
Suddenly I recalled my mother’s face, clearer than it should have been after so many years.
Her look of disappointment, on the night of my eighth birthday, when it had become clear I possessed no magic, was seared into my memory.
But a void herself, she became determined, and assured me there were other ways to gain power.
Something went through me, a wistful thought.
If she’d raised me here, she never would have done what she did.
If she’d raised me here, she might still be alive.
We rode the rest of the way to the castle in silence.
The Limanos Palace was the complete opposite of Damerel.
Bright white walls, topped with deep purple domes, formed a formidable structure in the heart of the city.
Carved from stone were large open windows spanning at least two stories in the receiving hall, with no glass to stop the sea breeze.
There were only large curtains tucked away that could, presumably, be pulled forward to block the sunlight.
A woman met us as we entered the palace. “Welcome, welcome. Your Majesty, Lady Samara. We’re honored by your arrival.” The woman introduced herself as Cosette, the southern king’s adviser, as she dipped into a deferential bow.
She was not a vampire.
Her heart beat low, steady thumps as she addressed Raphael.
Her dress was white and flowing, with metal clasps on the shoulders and around the wrists, the fabric cascading over her spritely body.
It reminded me of something Thea would wear, only it would have looked entirely different on my friend’s full figure.
The cuffs moved with the night air, a scent of dirt and wood clinging beneath whatever perfume she had on.
She looked practically harmless, except her canines were just a bit too sharp for a human, and the way her eyes caught the moonlight wasn’t entirely right.
Noticeably absent? The realm’s monarch. Kings were busy, of course, but considering the region bordered only two other kingdoms—and I didn’t imagine the Storm-blooded King would ever set foot in the coastal city—it ought to have warranted a greeting.
I wondered again at the true purpose of Raphael’s visit. Were there more tensions between the kingdoms than I realized? As the two countries surrounded half of the Witch Kingdom, any conflict between the vampires could impact the witches.
I would have to learn more. If Raphael was reluctant to tell me, I’d find out some other way.
“Your trunks have already been brought up,” she assured Raphael. “We’re honored by your presence for the festival. There will be a celebratory masquerade in eleven sundowns.”
“A masquerade,” Raphael repeated.
Cosette’s smile didn’t falter under Raphael’s unimpressed tone.
“Our king is always honored to provide his guests with magnificent events. It would be our privilege to provide you and your companion”—she looked to me for what felt like the twentieth time since we’d arrived—“with attire befitting your status.”
“My fledgling and I will manage to dress ourselves, but you can pass on my appreciation to your king for his hospitality.”
I wasn’t sure that was a lot of appreciation based on Raphael’s stony expression. The relations between the two countries must truly be strained, then. But as the others had explained, Limanos was a major trading port. Whatever Raphael thought of this king, strong ties were important.
Cosette once again didn’t miss a beat. She bowed.
“Of course. Please, avail yourself of the festivities if you’re inclined over the next few days.
The finale will take place at midnight on the eighth day.
Gaston will see you to your room.” She pointed to a short man with long ears and more than a few wrinkles on his brow.
Gaston was also a vampire. “I’ll have donors sent up momentarily.
You must be famished after your long journey. ”
My stomach twisted at the thought, but Raphael cut her off with a sharp jerk of his head. “No need. Some blood mead will be fine.”
Right. Raphael couldn’t drink directly from donors—not without forming the same psychic link that bound us.
Gaston moved from his post, giving us each a bob of his head in acknowledgment.
The rest of the crew had been escorted elsewhere, so the three of us made our way up two sets of stairs and then across a long, outdoor corridor.
It seemed wildly impractical for a vampire castle.
The sea was spread to the south, dark waves crashing against the sand.
For a moment I could only stare.
I knew what the ocean was. I wasn’t that ignorant. But living in the Witch Kingdom, it wasn’t the kind of thing I ever expected to see. Why wish for what could never be?
What would it be like to fall into the embrace of those waves? Would it be an escape to go to a land even beyond the horizon? A land with no vampires, no necromancers with obligations they struggled to understand?
Raphael stilled a pace ahead of me. I knew I should move on.
No doubt I seemed like an idiot, gawking at the sea foam in the distance.
But I’d never felt as small or insignificant in that moment as when I looked into the water, and then past it, where it disappeared into the bleeding ink of the night sky.
“We could go to the beach tomorrow,” Raphael said.
Go to the beach with Raphael. I pictured it. What did one even do at a beach? Strip and go in the water? With Raphael?
I shook my head, twisting away from the view. “It’s not necessary. You have business to attend to, I’m sure.”
Raphael didn’t argue, so I stepped forward. Gaston took it as his cue and continued the rest of the way.
We moved into one hallway, then another break on a balcony. “This isn’t a very practical stronghold for a vampire kingdom, is it?”
I meant the question for Raphael, but it was Gaston who answered.
“Oh, with the windows and balconies? The king’s a man of eccentricities, y’see.
Likes beautiful things, like the sea and sky.
” His vowels weren’t the kind of an aristocrat.
Instead, the vampire slipped over them. Not the crude way I’d heard in Greymere, but sloppier than the careful diction aristocrats practiced.
Raphael had too much self-control to roll his eyes, but I suspected he was only just resisting.
“It’s more a flex of power than anything.
Any vampire younger than fifty will burn quickly in the sun, and even after centuries it’s uncomfortable.
To be able to tolerate it like this is an assertion that he doesn’t consider himself beholden to the sun. ”
“Oh, a’course,” Gaston acquiesced. “As you say, Your Majesty.”
I wondered if the truth might lie between the two. Raphael’s view was cynical but practical. It left no room for the whimsical eccentric Gaston had described. I supposed if I were a powerful vampire monarch, it would make sense to assert my power.
Of course, Raphael had once mentioned being six centuries old. He could have lived in a castle like this. Instead, his kingdom was in a land without sun—where any vampire could be safe from its harm. Any creature who wanted to live there had to eschew its warmth.