Chapter Thirty-Six
Raphael
“You dealt with the body.”
It wasn’t a question, but the general nodded anyway. “I sent Ansel and Colette.”
Raphael paced, furious. He hadn’t expected to spend the day separated from Samara again, but Julian had wanted a rematch, and Julian was exceptionally annoying when he didn’t get his way.
If Raphael hadn’t gone, the southern king would have been just as likely to show up in his chambers with a chessboard.
The last thing he needed was Julian showing up uninvited.
Raphael was, in his opinion, doing an exceptional job leashing his anger.
The palace was still standing, after all.
That someone would dare attack her… It was only centuries of discipline that stayed his hand.
He wouldn’t act rashly. When he retaliated, it would be with ice in his veins as he carefully exacted revenge.
“I don’t understand why the fae would do this,” his general said. “We’ve had no grievances with them in a century.”
Samara sat in a chair, knees tucked against her chin.
He wanted to wrap her in his arms and console her.
Wanted to kneel at her feet and apologize for letting this happen—with the skulls of those who plotted this as an apology.
“They’re antagonistic by nature,” Raphael retorted.
As his closest neighbors, they might be doing something as basic as testing his boundaries.
He growled. If they wanted to see if he would retaliate, he’d show them just what happened to those who messed with what was his to protect.
“We should’ve sent his corpse to them in pieces. ”
“They’ll notice he’s missing,” Samara said.
“The problem isn’t that you killed him.”
“How is that not a problem?” It was the most emotion she’d shown since he’d arrived. Demos had given a succinct summary of the events, but his general was used to this violence. Samara was not.
“Samara, he attacked you. He had to die.” If anything, he was proud of how she’d done it. Killed the threat like a proper vampire. He just hated the fact she’d sullied her mouth and body with another’s blood. Especially now that he’d managed to coax her to take his.
Blood sharing between vampires had… significance.
“But he was a diplomat,” she insisted. “Surely there are some consequences. A trial. Even if he attacked someone, they must investigate.”
“You’re not just anyone,” Demos said. His general stayed on the other side of the room, assessing. “You’re Raphael’s progeny. Even if he survived, King Julian would be expected to sentence him to death. Once you tell Julian, that’s as good as a trial. Vampires can’t lie.”
“I’ll tell him,” Raphael said. The last thing he needed was Julian asking Samara questions. “But we still need to figure out why the fae were involved and if they’ll try again.” They’d be stupid to, but it’s not like every enemy was a genius.
Samara cleared her throat. “I—I don’t think it was the fae.”
He was in front of her in an instant. “What do you mean?”
She lifted her chin from her knees. Her eyes were bright red, as if she was blinking back tears. “I’ll tell you, but I need you to promise not to overreact.”
“I won’t overreact,” he said evenly. He could burn the palace to the ground and not consider it an overreaction. His Samara had been attacked. Had been shackled in cursed copper. Even if that had been the witch’s only crime, Raphael would’ve gladly ripped his spine from his still-breathing body.
She narrowed her gaze. Even now, she was defiant. “Or retaliate at all. If I tell you who I think did it, I don’t want you to send anyone after them.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” he drawled, deliberately not agreeing.
She flushed, cheeks turning the faintest pink. “It is not a bargain.”
Despite the circumstances, Raphael grinned. Her thoughts played clearly on her face, remembering exactly how they’d sealed their other bargain. He’d abstained from collecting the other, for now.
“Raphael, I’m serious.”
“I’ll stay my hand for now,” he said. “That’s the best I can do when it comes to someone threatening your safety.”
“Fine. It’s about the shackles he disguised as a bracelet. I realized I’d seen the pattern before. When you were in chains—”
“When were you in cursed copper?” Demos interjected, voice accusatory.
In cursed copper, a vampire—king or not—was nearly as defenseless as a mortal. Especially for one like him in Greymere. Those were details Raphael had carefully omitted when he’d told his general—and friend—how he’d found Samara. “Leave us,” he said, twisting his head. “I’ll fill you in later.”
“You had better,” Demos growled. He moved quickly through the room, shutting the door behind him.
Now it was just the two of them.
“Any fool can make cursed copper,” Raphael said carefully. Another of Anagenni’s petty revenges. It was a tedious process, but not a magical one.
She shook her head, white tresses falling back and forth.
“No. I mean the bracelets were the same. I picked those locks several times when we were in the cabin, and the mechanism was identical. The style I could have excused, but the locking mechanism is as specific to any smith as a magical signature.” She drew a fortifying breath.
“I think the metallurgist was working with the Witch Kingdom.”
The Witch Kingdom. His lips curled back involuntarily. After everything she’d endured from them, they had targeted her. Because they wanted to hurt him.
“You won’t attack them, right? I mean, they only…” She trailed off as if realizing what she was trying to defend. Her misplaced protectiveness rankled.
“They only tried to kill you,” he growled. That upstart king. Sending scouts into the vampire kingdoms, sending a witch to kill his viper… “But I won’t retaliate.”
To do so would be all-out war, and even he hesitated at that. Despite what she thought of vampires, Raphael didn’t relish in needless bloodshed. He’d slowly begun to convince her of that, and if he sent his army after them, it would undo all the progress they’d made.
He loved her tender heart just as he loved her rage. He only wished it wasn’t directed toward those who had wronged her. “Their would-be killer has already been dealt with. That will suffice as a message.”
“Raphael, there was more,” she started, then sealed her lips as if regretting speaking.
If she’d been willing to name the Witch Kingdom, then this was serious. The fact she’d even confided her suspicions to begin with was progress.
But blood curse him, he ached to be her confidant. To be the person she gave her secrets to willingly.
“My sweet viper.” He sat at the edge of the table across from her. “Haven’t I earned your trust?”
“I didn’t tell Demos this,” she said, gaze shifting down to one side. “But when he put the bracelets on me—please don’t growl, it makes it hard to think.”
Raphael acquiesced with great self-control. His viper, in chains… The mental image was maddening. “Fine. Continue.”
“He wanted to know about the grimoire.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He knew we have it. That’s why he hesitated to kill me.”
“How did he know about it?” The only ones who had known were him and Thea. He hadn’t even told Demos about it. His general would be livid when he realized what a liability it was.
The grimoire had been useless. Without the necromancer, it was a relic faded into myth.
If the Witch King wanted the grimoire, then he at least suspected the necromancer walked again.
“He mentioned a spy. It must have been Titus,” Samara said. “I left it hidden in—”
Raphael quickly pressed a finger to his lips, and she fell silent. The rooms were enchanted for silence, but after today’s events, Raphael wasn’t about to let his guard down.
“If he asked, then the knight was almost certainly working with the witches, as you said.”
“Do you think they’ll make another attempt?” she asked, nervous.
Cataloging the attendees of the Skyflame Festival, he doubted any would get close enough. Admittedly, he didn’t pay close attention to faces. Normally, he sent Thea for this kind of thing, but Ferro had been the only witch of note. The Witch King was ill liked by most other species.
“It’s unlikely. But with any luck, they’ll try.”
Samara startled. “Why would we want that? To ask them questions about their purpose?”
There was nothing warm in Raphael’s smile. “So I can have the pleasure of ripping them limb from limb and demonstrating what happens when someone attacks you.”