Chapter Forty-Four
Samara
For a fleeting second, I thought the voice belonged to Raphael.
It did not.
“If I’m not interrupting,” the male continued, though it was clear by his tone that he didn’t care one way or the other if he was interrupting.
He was tall, maybe the same height as Raphael, and a vampire judging by the red eyes behind the mask. He wore a carmine mask that covered the top of his face, feathered in a way that was almost reminiscent of a phoenix. His suit was also the color of blood.
Aella dipped to a slight curtsy, enough to tell me whoever was behind it was someone important. But after the polite gesture, she returned her focus to me. The silent question on her lips offered camaraderie I’d seldom known.
A dance in the crowd was harmless. The biggest risk was that I’d make a fool of myself, but we were leaving tomorrow. I nodded at Aella.
“You should visit us out west sometime,” she said in parting. At the edge of the crowd, the red-haired male I recognized as her husband held out a hand.
“An invitation from the winged queen,” the stranger mused.
Queen? Aella hadn’t mentioned anything like that. She’d been shockingly, well, normal. But I had no time to process as the male held out his hand in obvious invitation.
“I think it’s only fair to warn you I’m not well practiced,” I told the stranger.
“I’m not worried. You move like a natural dancer, and I’ve learned instinct counts for more than anything over the years, Samara.”
I stiffened slightly. “I’m afraid while you know my name, I don’t know yours.”
“Oh, I’m not offended,” he said, as if that been my concern. “It’s a poor host who doesn’t know his guests.”
The host. That meant . . . “Your Majesty,” I stammered.
“Pah, none of that. I imagine you’re used to the company of kings now.” He had the barest hint of a local accent, his words a slow drawl. “Call me Julian.”
He offered his hand once more. I had no choice but to slip my palm into his.
Mercifully, the song was already halfway done, so I stood a chance at not completely humiliating myself as Julian drew me onto the dance floor.
In the space of a few steps, he turned us to face each other, his other hand falling lightly on my hip while I set my free hand on his shoulder.
“It’s not every day one meets an ochia,” Julian said conversationally.
“A what?” I wasn’t familiar with the term.
“You don’t know?” His voice wasn’t mocking exactly, but there was a joke in his eyes I wasn’t getting.
“One of the most venomous snakes in Eurobis. They’re found in the shifter kingdom, if you’re unlucky enough to be over there.
Their bite is famous for being as blissful as it is deadly.
Your dress is patterned after their scales.
” He spun me around, and I worked to avoid tripping. “There are two ways to read the dress.”
“And what are those?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“The most obvious is it’s a warning. I imagine that was the expected interpretation. But for those who would risk death for a moment of bliss . . . well. They might take it as an invitation.”
His fangs flashed, and I stumbled, but Julian was a skilled enough dancer to cover that up, moving me in another twirl. My stomach twisted.
“Of course, one would have to be nigh insane to take an invitation from someone Raphael drinks from,” he continued.
I had no plans to admit that I’d offered my blood but Raphael hadn’t taken it, yet Julian read enough in my hesitation to cock his head and ask, “He does drink your blood, doesn’t he?”
“He has,” I said truthfully.
“Naturally. You were his Chosen,” he said easily enough that I relaxed a fraction.
“I was.” He hadn’t taken from me in that way, but I didn’t need to clarify.
“It’s odd, you know. I never knew Raphael to be able to drink without killing someone.” The notes slowed, silence roaring in my ears as I had no answer. “See, I knew you’d be a natural.”
“Thank you,” I murmured as the song ended. But Julian made no move to separate.
“It would be wrong of me to monopolize you, Your Majesty,” I said, trying to bow out.
“Julian,” he corrected.
“Julian,” I repeated. “I’m sure you have other guests to attend to.”
“Ah, but none so interesting. I suspect if I don’t take the time to meet you now, Raphael will ensure I never have the chance again.
He’s rather possessive.” The last line he said in a stage whisper, as if he were sharing some great secret.
“Besides, it’s my birthday. I think that should entitle me to dance two songs in a row with any beautiful female I wish. ”
“Birthday?” I was so surprised I didn’t protest as he began to move us through the steps of the next song. The slow tempo promised a more languid pace—easier to speak during without tripping over my feet, at least.
“So surprised?
“I’m surprised you could want to celebrate anything after so many years.” I hadn’t celebrated my birthday since I was eight—or maybe seven, if truthful. My twenty-first had passed in the last few months, but I hadn’t said a word to Thea or Raphael. It was just another day.
“Oh, you never stop wanting.” Everything that came from his lips managed to sound flirtatious, but I had the strangest sense it had nothing to do with desiring me.
There was some game afoot, but I wasn’t the prize in it.
“Still, I can understand some might think it’s childish.
That’s why I use the Skyflame Festival as a pretext.
It draws such interesting people from all over.
” He lifted his chin at someone before turning me to see.
“That gentleman over there is one of the premier vintners in the southwest. He donates a barrel of his finest aged wine each year. I invite him for that alone.”
“But you can’t drink wine?” I meant it as a statement, but it came out more like a question.
“Of course not.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “But it’s the best. I do love having the best.”
It was arrogant, but at least it was honest.
“And that lady, well, she tends to meet her next husband at the festival—with her current husband on her arm. There’s a pot every year on if she’ll pick a new one and who it might be.”
“She throws them over so easily?” It seemed like rather a lot of work to me.
He gave me a mock frown, scandalized. “Of course not. She kills them, though she’s too careful to get caught. Since she usually picks someone insufferable and rich, it’s really more of a community service than murder. She even donates half of her inheritance to charity once the will is processed.”
Julian laughed at my stunned expression.
“And do you partake in the betting pool?”
“In fact, this year I did. I bet on a certain philandering metallurgist. Twenty gold pieces. But it seems he was taken out of the running early.”
Sir Ferro. “That—”
“It hardly warranted Raphael bursting into my rooms accusing me of being negligent at best, and an accomplice at worse. I do hope you believe I had nothing to do with it.”
He hoped I believed it, but it didn’t make it so.
“I wouldn’t have tried to kill you without meeting you,” he assured me. “And of course, I would never have used such a shoddy assassin for the job.”
At my look of horror, he just laughed. “Kidding, kidding. As long as you’re no threat to me or my people, I have no motivation to harm you. Ah—there it is.” He dipped his head to the side. “That’s who she’ll go with instead.”
He’d gestured to a reed-thin man who’d just pulled three goblets from a tray. From this distance, he looked mortal. He knocked back one, dropping it to the ground, and then began to head toward the woman Julian had identified.
“Shouldn’t you do something if you know she’s going to kill him?”
“The man put ten pounds on himself, even knowing the fate of his last eighteen predecessors. The gene pool will be much improved without him.” He shrugged, unconcerned.
“In any case, you understand now why it’s so important to celebrate when you can.
Especially since I’m not invited out as often anymore.
” He gave me a meaningful look. “I wasn’t even invited to your debut. ”
Oops. I didn’t think they’d invited any foreign dignitaries—especially since Raphael had only just recovered from being poisoned and I was in a cell.
“Perhaps it was an oversight. He did bring me to your kingdom this year, when I know he often has to miss the festival. That must count for something.”
Julian snorted. “He came this year because I wrote to him and gave him no choice. Believe me, that is the only reason.”
I wrote to him . . . Julian. That was who “J” was.
No one ever seemed to utter the king’s name, least of all Raphael, and with how dismissive Raphael seemed toward any mention of the king, I hadn’t considered the cryptic note might have come from him.
But if Julian wanted to discuss rumors privately with Raphael—if the two vampire kingdoms were working closely together—then what did that mean?
Paranoia swirled inside me. I fought to keep a level head, to not jump to conclusions.
But why else would Raphael be misrepresenting his relationship with the king?
Aella had mentioned skirmishes, but her kingdom was on the western half of the continent. What if things were even worse?
“I’m sure no one intended it as a slight,” I said tightly.
He snorted. “It was quite deliberate. Raphael is rather possessive of his things.”
“I am not a thing.”
He bent closer, inhaling. My stomach twisted, not disgust, just a tightening cramp. “I can smell his blood on you. Truly, I never thought I’d see the day. But, well, love changes a male.”
“He’s not—I’m not—” I stammered.
“He’s not besotted? You’re not together?”
“No.” At that moment, I finally managed to catch sight of Raphael over Julian’s shoulder. He was across the room, cloaked in all black, and was speaking to a vampiress. Lady Jaen, perhaps?
I almost caught his eye and pulled my gaze away sharply. Julian arched a brow at me.