Chapter Twenty-Seven
Samara
The next day there was no thralling, only a brief visit through the markets in the morning. The later hours were spent meeting Lady Jaen once again. I couldn’t tell if I hated it more when her attention was on me or on Raphael.
Today, Raphael had led me through Limanos again, but instead of practicing compulsion, he had me pick out different species with my senses.
He’d explained that part of not hating being a vampire was working through the overwhelm of sensory information—the noises, the scents, the general sense of fullness that was hard to process.
We returned to the palace after that, but any assumption I’d made that we were finished for the day was quickly put to rest. Earlier, we’d gone out in unassuming garb, casual enough to blend in with the crowd.
The outfit I was now in was not built for blending in.
My dress was in the southern style, with high shoulders and a long skirt, but Damerel’s colors: bright purple with dark blue accents that shimmered in the moonlight.
Raphael matched, though I’d seldom seen him in anything but black. Raphael’s suit was made of deeper shades than my dress.
Limanos was a city that knew no hour for rest. Enough of its inhabitants lived during the day that the market began at dawn, but with it being a vampire city, the nocturnal activities were just as prevalent.
We were going to the theater.
“You haven’t seen enough?” I asked, remembering the distaste he’d had for the play and Flo’s performance.
“I think you’ll enjoy this.”
That halted me. He was thinking about my enjoyment.
Larissa opened the door of the carriage. “You look dashing,” she praised.
I grinned, despite myself. “You look nice as well.” She’d traded her usual uniform for a dressier version, matching the style Demos wore for balls in Damerel.
Likewise, we’d switched from the smaller coach built to navigate the winding mountain passes for a more ornate carriage befitting Raphael’s status.
The ride wasn’t any big distance, but it was about being seen.
When we finally stopped, Raphael got out, and I peered at the sight over his shoulder.
Throngs of people, too many to all be attendees, looked on. Many were vampires; several were not.
“You’re here with me, little viper,” he said.
I took Raphael’s outstretched hand. The carriage was a bit tall for me, and when I stumbled slightly, his other hand quickly found my hip, guiding me down so I didn’t completely fall in front of the onlookers.
Though we were a bit north of the palace, farther from the sea, the night breeze was still cool and sweet. At first, I wasn’t sure why we’d stopped. There was no obvious building.
Then we turned past the crowd, and I looked down. A massive theater had been carved from stone down into the ground.
Larger platforms with stone railings hewn from the gray rock were set at even intervals between the stairs. The seats below were already filled in, as were several other platforms. Raphael led me to one off to the right, with a couch set near the front to better see.
A rather narrow couch.
The three moons hung overhead, the low hum of chatter following us as we made our way to the balcony.
I took a seat, as far into the corner as I could manage without seeming childish.
Raphael said nothing as he took his seat in the empty space next to me. He didn’t presume to usurp two-thirds of the couch the way some males might, but…
It was a very narrow couch.
Raphael managed to seem completely oblivious to the audience members who were twisted in their seats, trying to look at us. I would have lied and told myself it was only curiosity about a foreign king, but there was no mistaking that several of the looks were directed at me.
The first human Raphael had turned in centuries.
Even the other balconies, no doubt holding dignitaries of high status, or at least other nobles in the city, were twisting their necks to get a peek at the foreign king’s new fledgling.
Larissa and Demos stood at our back. I felt bad they would be forced to be there for however long we were here. But, well, if I was given the choice between standing anonymously in the back or sitting in a plush seat with a hundred eyes on me, I’d embrace an aching lower back in a heartbeat.
A long low note pierced the echoing din. It reverberated, chasing all the chatter to no more than a whisper.
“How does it sound like that?” The question was more to myself than Raphael, but he answered anyway.
“The acoustics. Limanos is famous for this theater. They say if an actor stands in the right spot and whispers, it can be heard in the farthest box, even with mortal hearing.”
Fascinating. “Is it enchanted?” I didn’t sense the threads of magic in the stone.
“No magic unless you count arithmetic. Which, I suppose, a cunning philosopher could argue is its own kind of power.”
I kept my scoff quiet. “The philosopher must be a void.” The only magic that counted was what could be trapped in cards.
“Like you?” Raphael asked.
For a split second, I froze, unsure how to weave around this. I was spared trying to navigate through that question as applause exploded in the theater, ricocheting through the amphitheater as the performers took the stage.
All Raphael had told me was that I would enjoy it.
Eighteen took the stage, a mix of humans, vampires, and creatures I couldn’t confidently name.
Seventeen of them carried instruments, ranging from a small silver flute to a double bass as tall as the spiky-haired fae.
Someone came from the side and took a black cloth from the center instrument—a piano.
The one who held nothing, a male with long spindly fingers, took his seat at the bench.
Someone emerged from the front, a final member of the troupe, with a long thin wand.
I studied their faces. Some of them—the woman with the flute, the man with the harp—looked familiar.
The conductor dipped his baton; they began to play, and a new world emerged in front of me.
The performance began subtly, low tones interspersed with bright chimes form the upper ranges of the violin or the flute.
Then, the disparate pierces began to swirl together.
It was no longer so easy to hear where one note ended and the next began, the pieces moving in glorious synchronicity to weave a wordless story.
I leaned forward, etiquette be damned. A proper lady should seem appreciative but restrained. That went for anything, from a forward noble to a basket of baby chimeras, or a new toy, as my mother had explained when I’d been too eager to open a rare gift.
But I couldn’t find any restraint in me, not as the pieces built and swelled to a crescendo ten minutes in the making. The movement ended, and the theater burst into a round of applause once more. I joined in.
Raphael did not. I glanced at him, surprised.
His eyes were shut.
How could he possibly be sleeping through this?
As the notes of the next piece began to stir, Raphael’s heels kicked out slightly, one over the other.
I elbowed him in the side. Discreetly.
One irked eye slid open.
I bent close, worried we’d draw attention. “You can’t be seen sleeping,” I hissed. “People will see and gossip that you thought the performance was terrible.”
“I tend not to worry about what others say about me.”
He really did look tired.
I bent closer, and both of Raphael’s eyes opened. “They’re magnificent. They must have trained for years for this. Surely you don’t want their reputations to be sullied by rumors that the vampire king found them dull.”
Raphael arched a brow. “I haven’t slept much of late, so you’ll forgive me for taking the chance when I could.”
“You can sleep at dawn,” I countered.
Raphael didn’t agree, just looked at me.
He couldn’t be planning… “Do you intend to not sleep during the day because of me?”
“You deserve to feel safe when you sleep,” Raphael retorted. But he still looked tired. I wondered how much rest he’d had on the journey. Oh, he was a centuries-old vampire, sure, but he worked himself to a brutal end.
“You can sleep later. I’ll be fine.” Probably. “Just because I’m silly and costing you rest doesn’t mean these musicians should suffer for it.” To have worked so hard…
He arched a pale brow. “And you would welcome me in your bed for that purpose?”
I flushed, refusing to be distracted by his innuendo. “It’s a large bed.”
The brow rose higher.
“We’re sharing a room. We can be reasonable. You don’t need to stay up the entire time—if we were in danger, you would wake, wouldn’t you?”
“I would.” There was no innuendo here, just a quiet vow.
“Then… rest a little if you must now. You can have my shoulder. People will think it’s affection rather than sleep deprivation from watching over your paranoid companion at night.
” Since apparently they already thought we were entangled.
“But I’ll wake you near the end so you can be seen applauding with the rest.”
“Deal.” Raphael’s eyes fluttered shut as our negotiation concluded. This one, he didn’t seal with a kiss, and I wondered if I was disappointed. He adjusted himself, looking less obviously asleep as he leaned closer to me.
There. Now I could enjoy the concert in peace without worrying the performers would be damned by headlines reading VAMPIRE KING BORED TO SLEEP.
Only there was no refocusing on the music for me. Oh, I still appreciated it. The reverberations of the strings, the crisp notes at the high ends of the scales on the piano, the currents the harp carried through the melodies.
But I couldn’t pay attention to it because there was Raphael. Asleep.
He’d never been asleep while I was awake, not as long as I could remember. I doubted he was truly sleeping deeply now. But he looked different. Not defenseless but… less hardened. The strands of his hair tickled the edge of my throat, his cedar scent close enough that I caught myself biting my lip.
The music shifted again, from the fast-paced movements to a slower tune, no less enthralling with its depths.
But not quite as captivating as the male next to me.
An hour passed, and the pieces continued. Sensing the end was near, I nudged Raphael. He lifted subtly, as if he’d never been asleep. He didn’t, however, immediately shift away.
“Feel better?” I whispered.
He clapped, obliging even though he hadn’t been awake to hear the performance. “Leagues.”
One more song was played, the finale of the symphony, and all too soon everything was over.
We stood and applauded. I barely resisted a cheer.
Gods, they’d been incredible. Even in Damerel there hadn’t been anything so incredible.
The musicians, no three of them the same race, had made a tremendous masterpiece. We clapped for five minutes, ten.
“Do you want to meet them?” Raphael asked as the clapping faded and the attendees began to make their way up the steps to the exit.
“Truly?” The word was out before I could temper my excitement.
Raphael smiled, and it was such a simple, devastating expression. As if what was between us were so simple.
As if he were courting me and liked that I was pleased. I looked away but took his outstretched arm as he led me to the stage.
Even though we went against the current, people parted on the narrow stairs to make room. There were dipped heads, slight bows of deference—directed at both of us.
I avoided everyone’s gaze, more focused on my feet so as to not trip and tumble down the stone steps. Larissa and Demos were at our back, building a buffer.
“Your Majesty.” The conductor was a stout man who looked to be perhaps fifty, a human with hair that was pulling back against his forehead, sweat slicked between thinning patches. He had a mustache to match, with long curling ends.
“My fledgling quite enjoyed your performance. You are talented.”
The conductor’s eyes went wide. “I’m honored. We’re honored. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Arold, of the Midlands. Would you like to meet the rest of the orchestra?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” I hastily replied before Raphael could demand it. No doubt they were tired, but I wanted to thank them. “This was… I’ve never heard music like this. Performed this way. It was divine. The songs made me ache in parts of my soul I didn’t even know were there.”
“You’re too kind,” the conductor said, head bobbing.
“In this state, I’m quite honest,” I replied.
The conductor’s grin widened beneath his mustache. He led us over to the orchestra, and there was a quick chorus of honorifics and bows as the conductor introduced us and then the musicians.
“You were all wonderful,” I told them. “The harp—your melodies were incredible. I had no idea a cello could sound like that. The piano—your fingers were wind over the keys. And you—the flute has always been a favorite of mine. I love how you sounded with it,” I gushed.
The flutist, who had introduced herself as Ansel, beamed. “Do you play yourself, Lady Samara?”
I laughed. “No, no. The closest I came was a carrot I carved.” At the confused looks, I realized it was probably unseemly to admit such a thing as a vampire king’s companion. “But truly, you’re talented. How long have you been playing?”
“Nearly thirty years. I’ve been traveling the continent for half of that with a few colleagues.” Ansel pointed to a few of the others.
I tried to place them. “Have you been in Damerel?”
Ansel grinned. “About six months ago. We were invited by His Majesty, in fact. It was a great honor.”
That was why I’d recognized them. I considered asking something bland about Ansel’s impression of the kingdom, but, well, there were only polite answers for that. “What’s it like to perform the way you do?”
She hadn’t expected the question but recovered quickly. “It’s a privilege. Truly, my lady. It’s always a joy to perform for others.”
Her answer was poised, but it seemed too… easy. “But it must be difficult at times.”
Ansel tapped her chin, considering. “The worthy things are seldom easy, I suppose. As a performer, I play a role. Even if my lips are chapped or my tongue feels swollen, I want to give my best, or even more than that if possible. It feels like what I was born to do.”
I nodded along, even while I privately wondered if that confidence truly came so naturally. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity, Ansel. I’ve taken enough of your time.”
Ansel made appropriate protests about it being no trouble at all, but there was still a look of relief as she returned to her fellow musicians. Raphael similarly disentangled himself and offered me his arm. Larissa and Demos flanked us.
It had been a selfish imposition to keep them for so long. Dawn was nearing as we made our way back to the carriage—the last left outside the amphitheater—to return to the castle.
Where I’d just agreed to share a bed with Raphael.