Chapter Forty-Three
Samara
When I finally left the bathing chamber, long after even the enchanted hot water had cooled, Raphael was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Larissa and another soldier were in the sitting room, standing guard at the door. I acknowledged them with a nod and swallowed the hurt that he’d left me.
After all, I couldn’t blame him. His plan had worked—the bond had eased enough that he didn’t need to be attached at the hip to me. Just what I’d wanted—no, what I’d needed.
When we returned to Damerel, I would take the grimoire and go. Even if Thea wasn’t there, I couldn’t bear to stay a day longer than necessary.
It would be better, kinder, to leave like this, quarreling. It would provide a plausible excuse for why I was suddenly ready to leave so abruptly.
I shut the bedroom door, looking at the space. It felt much emptier now.
A dress lay on the bed. It was unlike any that had been offered to me before, but it fit the mask on its side perfectly. It was sleeveless, with no corset, so I didn’t need any assistance, just some determination to squeeze my body into it.
Instead of examining the dress, I went back to Raphael’s side table, leafing through what was there.
The letter hadn’t moved. I hadn’t seen Lady Jaen since, and hadn’t managed to get any further details.
Maybe tonight I would stay on the edges, listening for bits of conversation.
I wished I could just ask Raphael, but I was terrified of where those questions might lead.
I ran my fingers over the fabric of the dress.
Someone—Raphael?—had left jewelry. A bracelet, and armband, and a purple sapphire on a long chain, all gold.
I approached them cautiously, but best I could tell, they were utterly mundane.
The band and bracelet were fashioned after snakes, and once on, it covered the tattoo on my wrist. I’d found myself looking at it more and more through the day.
Leaving Raphael was necessary for survival.
Of myself, of the witches. Even if it hurt, it had to happen.
And then, like this ink had healed, so too would the pain in my chest.
The necklace was long enough to slip over my head, but I hesitated, set it back down, and then went to dig into the trunks.
There. My pendant—my last tie to the Witch Kingdom.
Another reminder of why I was doing all this.
That was my home. Where I belonged. Against Ferro, I’d even been able to call on magic from his cards.
That blessing might have been from the goddess herself, though I didn’t dare try to summon magic around Raphael.
From what I’d read, vampires couldn’t use magic—but Thea had also reminded me they never turned witches.
I removed the pendant and switched it to the golden chain, tucking the original back amongst my things. Since the chain sat low enough to be hidden against my skin, it could serve as a private reminder.
I styled my hair half up, half down, in the mirror.
I no longer had to suppress a shudder when I saw the red eyes looking back at me.
I could sincerely appraise my looks. The dress was fitted at the bust and waist, giving me some semblance of curves, which were accentuated by the strange pattern.
The neckline was sharp, daring but powerful.
Rather than fabric, it was made of little scales that managed to be formfitting without constricting.
The entire dress had an iridescent sheen that changed color as I moved through the light, from deep mauve to glimmering violet, with hints of green in the shadows.
It was, without a doubt, the most stunning piece of clothing I’d ever worn.
Raphael must have ordered it several days ago, maybe as soon as we’d arrived at Limanos, and spent a great deal on it.
The mask was a perfect match. I knotted it behind my face, adjusting it slightly. It had the same sheen, gold rimming the edges to tie together the jewelry. With the same red eyes and white hair as every vampire, I could have been almost anyone.
Selfishly, for the briefest moment, I let myself imagine that I was someone else.
Someone who didn’t jump at the thought of sleeping in a bed, someone who hadn’t seen her mother ripped apart by a vampire in her nightmares, someone who wasn’t some mythical witch born only once every two centuries, that I was someone who could smile at the dress and imagine Raphael’s hands raking over it appreciatively, and could bask in the heat of his gaze.
Someone who could have him.
But there wasn’t enough illusion magic in all of Eurobis to truly make it so.
The masquerade was stunning. If only I could have appreciated it.
It was set on a lush rooftop garden I hadn’t even known existed.
Plants of every shape and size dotted the space, giving a feeling of intimacy despite the massive scale.
Everyone wore masks, be it simple black dominoes or more ornate ones with feathers and beads.
I’d arrived alone, with two soldiers as escorts. The party was underway; Raphael was already here. If I told myself he’d gone to avoid being rude instead of to avoid me, it might have stung less. If I knew anything, he was watching now, closely, but it hurt too much to let myself seek him out.
Clearly, his theory about the fledgling bond was right. I hadn’t felt a twinge of pain even though I’d been at least two thousand paces from him.
Maybe it was finally gone. Once I returned to Damerel, I could take the grimoire and leave.
The thought had me plucking a goblet of blood mead from a server as they passed.
I took a long pull, the taste even worse than usual. It sat heavy in my cheeks, in stark relief against the bliss that came from Raphael’s blood.
I told myself I didn’t care. I took another sip.
There was a time not so long ago I would never have considered indulging like this. But I craved something that would settle the jagged feeling in my chest.
And despite it all, with him here, I was safe. Nothing would happen to me with him watching, even if we were fighting.
I might never get that luxury again once I left.
Quick-paced string pieces projected across the roof, and all around me, people danced.
In contrast to my bleak mood, there were smiles.
The perimeter seemed like a better place to brood, so that’s where I went.
Tall white columns circled the room, bushels of plants set around them, offering a reprieve of darkness.
A reprieve some people were taking significant advantage of, I soon learned. My hunt for solitude continued.
Farther down, a woman stood to the side, surveying the crowd while she clawed at her back.
“Can I help you?” I asked, hesitantly setting my half-empty goblet on the railing.
She turned, an elegant white crystalline mask curved over her face, something about it almost feline. It did nothing to hide her identity—not with the blue-green wings at her back. She’d been at the welcome dinner with the small group of nobles and diplomats.
“I’d be grateful. This dress was not designed for these.” She gestured at her wings. “If I’m still stuck when my husband comes back, he’ll probably just burn it off me. It tends to be his solution to everything, and I’d hate to have another dress ruined.”
I smiled at the affected irritation she put on, meant to cover obvious affection. “Let me help you.”
I eased around her and studied the back of the dress. The problem was clear; the way it was sewn against her didn’t quite accommodate her shoulder blades. I gingerly pulled at the fabric, then wove a pin from my hair through to secure it. “That should work.”
“You have deft fingers,” she said, easing away. Her wings fluttered. “Much better. Thank you.” She took my hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced yet. I’m Aella of Isendrell and Vaelithria. And you’re the fledgling everyone is talking about, aren’t you?”
“I hope not, but probably. I’m Samara.” I picked up my goblet, but Aella snatched it from my hands with surprising surety. Too startled to stop her, I watched as she flung the contents into a large vase that had some kind of lilies planted in it.
“You should always get a fresh glass if you’ve set that one down,” she lectured, waving down a server who materialized in short order.
She handed me another glass of mead, taking a glass flute of some sparkling liquid for herself.
“Cheers, to a dress my husband didn’t get to burn off.
Tell me, what brings you to the edge of the crowd?
” Aella asked, tilting her flute over to the throng of people buzzing about.
Each glittered like a jewel under the moonlight.
“It’s where I’m most comfortable,” I said honestly. “And you?”
Even the casual shrug of her shoulders was elegant. “After the first hundred years of balls, they tend to blend together. We nearly skipped this year altogether. Though the thirteenth night is always breathtaking, no matter how many times I’ve been.”
The fireworks. I sucked in, remembering exactly how breathtaking last night had been.
We stood in silence for a moment, both studying the crowd. It was almost companionable.
“You’re not what I expected,” she told me after a moment.
I furrowed my brow behind the mask. “I wasn’t aware there were any expectations for me.”
“You must be joking.” She twisted and looked at me. “No . . . you’re serious. You don’t even realize.”
“I know I was Raphael’s Chosen and that him turning me is seen as significant,” I said, just a touch defensive. I’d heard enough of it.
“Our host has had thousands of Chosen in his reign, though he shows no sign of taking any to rule at his side. The northern queen turned her consort two hundred years ago, and it was only then they became her companion at events. But you’ve been sired by the western king, and despite no other tie, he takes you to a foreign kingdom.
You’re left unattached, arriving alone. He’s positioning you not as one of his possessions but as an equal, someone who can act in her own right. ”
“I thought the sire bond was a tie, at least for vampires.” Perhaps I was speaking too candidly, but Aella almost made it easy.
To her credit, she didn’t immediately dismiss me.
“I’m not a vampire, so I can’t speak to all the nuances.
But he brought you with him and let you present yourself without casting a shadow.
There’s a price to this perception for him, you realize?
Most monarchs would take another successor as a threat to their power. One not bound by another position.”
I hadn’t realized it was costing him something. How would he be affected when I fled?
She waited for me to reply, but I had nothing to say that wouldn’t endanger me. Instead, Aella and I watched the crowd, her pointing out occasional dignitaries with observations that were a mix of astute and witty while I tried to keep up.
“That one wouldn’t last a week in the ice caves of Vaelithria,” she mused as a skinny sprite collapsed into a fit of giggles in a group that wasn’t laughing nearly as hard.
“I don’t think I’d last a day, so perhaps I shouldn’t judge,” I replied.
She gave me an appraising eye. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’d give you at least ten days.”
I laughed along with her.
Though I was reluctant to admit it to myself, I was scanning the crowd for Raphael. I hadn’t seen him, and as much as I knew I couldn’t have him, leaving things sitting as they did between us didn’t feel right.
I couldn’t explain, I couldn’t apologize, couldn’t ask for him to understand that there was no possible future between us, because where he saw centuries ahead of us, I saw centuries of strife I had no way to escape.
If Aella was a diplomat, like many who had attended the welcome dinner, perhaps she had insight into more than just vampire politics. Best I could tell, she was some hybrid of fae and the Winged Ones. Vaelithria was on the western half of the continent.
“In the centuries you mentioned you’d been coming here, has anyone from the Witch Kingdom attended?” I asked.
Aella furrowed her brow, considering. “Not that I can recall. They tend to keep to themselves, as I’ve always understood it. Preferring not to mingle with those they see as too different. Though this king . . .” She trailed off. “You hail from there, I assume?”
I nodded. “What about the king?”
“You would know better than me, I assume. He’s as all kings are—ambitious, arrogant, from what the winds have told me. But perhaps a bit more cunning.”
“Have you heard rumors about him lately?” It was clumsy, cursed clumsy. Thea would’ve managed something far more subtle. But this might be my last chance to learn how the other nations saw my kingdom and what exactly had drawn Raphael here. “Unrest with the kingdoms?”
“There has been . . . some talk. Restless skirmishes that help no one.” Her furrow had grown to a frown.
“It’s long been known the tensions between the witches and their neighbors have simmered.
Perhaps the king means to bring it to a head, but that would be foolish given their surrounded state.
They would need to be cunning, and perhaps certain they had some ace up their sleeve, so to speak.
But that’s of course just one woman’s opinion.
My people tend to stay neutral. We’ve had no contact with the Witch King. ”
“That makes sense,” I mumbled, hiding frustration there wasn’t more. “Thank you.”
“Your sire would know better, I’m certain.” A tactful, unspoken question about why I didn’t just ask Raphael.
I had nothing to say in defense to that, so we went back to studying the other partygoers. Aella continued to provide commentary, not minding that I had less and less to say in response.
I might have spent the entire night on the fringes, mentally planning how I’d pack and leave Damerel in a few weeks.
Until someone cut in from the shadows, hand outstretched.
“May I have this dance?”