Chapter Forty-Four #2
“Definitely not together.” The mead really wasn’t agreeing with me now. It was like a long ache that had been brewing, and dancing had exacerbated it terribly. I pressed a palm to my stomach.
The teasing look slid off Julian’s face. “Are you all right?”
His concern seemed surprisingly genuine, enough that I was almost distracted from the pain. “I’m okay. I just had too much mead. It must not sit well with me.”
He looked confused. “Normally the aftereffects come several hours later. How much have you had?”
“About a glass. Look, I don’t want to make a scene. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s hardly any at all.” He turned around, but I missed whatever he saw. When he was back, he was smirking.
“What?” I demanded.
He turned me in a wide circle, the flourish drawing the eyes of several other dancers. “Let me ask you a question first. Do you ever find yourself experiencing feelings that don’t quite seem your own?”
I worked to keep my face carefully blank, though I was confused. Surely he couldn’t know about the grimoire.
“Strong emotions like lust, thirst, perhaps? Even when you shouldn’t?”
“I don’t think so.” That didn’t sound like the intrusive thoughts of a semi-sentient grimoire.
“He is rather careful.” This, Julian said more to himself than to me. “And I imagine as a fledgling you’ve had quite a stir of emotions all your own. It would make it harder to notice.”
“Notice what?”
“Notice Raphael’s projections. Given you were his Chosen to drink from and lived—temporarily—to tell the tale, I’m sure you’re aware of his gifts. It’s a rare talent, and it’s only logical it was passed to you.”
I wasn’t sure I liked how Julian knew so much about Raphael, or the way the pieces seemed so logical when he set them out for me. The same way when Raphael had drunk from me, he’d developed a tie to read my feelings until I learned to shield from him. At this point, it was secondary.
“You’re saying Raphael has stomach cramps, and that’s what I’m feeling?” I asked in disbelief.
“Oh no, sweet.” His voice was grave. “Something much more serious. Your sire is experiencing emotions.”
“Because you think he’s possessive.” Now that I’d spotted Raphael, it was hard to look away for any length of time. He was still with the vampiress I’d decided was Lady Jaen.
“He’s good at masking. I’ll give him credit for that since he couldn’t have had much practice. I’m surprised you didn’t notice earlier, but he must have mastered it quickly. He’s insufferable like that,” Julian confided.
Had he mastered it quickly? Or had I perhaps felt echoes of it in the dungeon, bleeding into all the other pain I’d suffered. But what feeling could possibly be causing something this extreme?
“How fun to see the normally composed king so jealous. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but, well, centuries of practice hiding his expressions will help in ways this doesn’t.”
Julian sounded delighted.
“He has nothing to be jealous of,” I snapped.
“You wound me.”
He kept smiling, not hardly as wounded as he’d be if I stabbed him in the thigh.
“I mean, he has no reason to be jealous because we’re not like that. I’m not his.”
Not after today. We were finished.
“Hmm.” Julian made a sound low in his throat as he leaned closer. “Is that so? Then perhaps I could have a taste.”
“There is no way I’m sharing blood with you.” Or any vampire, I should have said.
Even though I’d considered it last night.
“Oh, that’s not what I was planning to taste at all. Not yet, anyway.”
I pulled back. “I’d rather you not taste anything of mine.”
“Because you’re his,” Julian said triumphantly.
“Because I’m mine, and I don’t intend to share myself with you. Raphael has nothing to do with it.”
“Care to wager on it?” The smirk on his face would have made the devil god himself shiver.
“I hardly see how you’d bet on that. And it’s inappropriate to do so,” I grumbled, then realized I’d just chastised the king like he was a child acting out of turn. Crap.
But Julian only laughed. “You already cost me one bet. This only seems fair.”
“What are we wagering?” And would this song ever end?
“If I win, I want a dinner with you. And, of course, your sire,” he said before I could object. “Since I wasn’t invited to your debut and he’s made you surprisingly scarce these past two weeks.”
It was an odd prize, but I suspected it was more the juvenile glee in beating Raphael that he was after.
“And what do I get if I win?” I challenged. “You don’t have anything I want.”
“I’m ruler of one of the most prosperous kingdoms on Eurobis, and you don’t think I have anything you could want?” Nothing approaching modesty came within a hundred yards of Julian. “You’re either an acetic or you lack imagination.”
I lifted my chin, ignoring the pain that gripped me like a vise. “Make me an offer, then.”
He’d maneuvered us farther from Raphael, toward the shadowed edges of the dance floor. “A favor, then. Something within my power to grant.”
Even if I never planned to return to the kingdom, it was a tempting offer. He’d put no limitations on it, and I actually did have enough imagination to think of how it could come in handy.
Julian watched me waver, an asp readying to strike. “Do we have a wager, then?”
“Fine,” I said impulsively. “But I don’t see how you’ll prove he’s jealous. As you said, he has centuries controlling any of those emotions, and we can’t be sure that’s what I’m feeling.”
“Oh, I’ll deliver proof.” One hand slid lower on my back. Not sexually, not claiming, but steadying as the cramps twisted inside me.
Raphael was looking at me now, no longer in conversation with Lady Jaen. His eyes bore into me with shocking intensity that was impossible to pull away from.
In my distraction, Julian’s other hand snaked up around my neck, holding me in place. He leaned in and kissed me.
Or very nearly did. His lips pressed against the edge of my mouth, the slightest bit off. But with his back to Raphael, it would look just like he’d kissed me. The pain in my stomach turned violent and dark, and if not for Julian’s hands, I would’ve collapsed.
Then, as if it had never been there, it all disappeared. The pain was gone, locked away, and all I felt was a hint of confusion and irritation at Julian’s ploy.
Confusion, irritation, and a sudden sharp breeze as Raphael crossed the room and flung Julian into a stone column.
The column cracked.
The music screeched to a halt.
“Temper, temper,” Julian tutted, dusting his shoulders as he rose to his feet.
Raphael was in front of him in a flash, a blur to the eyes. He hoisted Julian with two hands and snarled at him. “She’s mine.”
“Told you he was jealous,” Julian crowed at me.
“You do not speak to her,” Raphael growled. “You do not look at her. You do not fucking touch her.”
Raphael’s voice had risen while the rest of the ballroom hushed. Where was Demos when you needed him? Or any guard? There was a wild look in Raphael’s eyes that worried me. I wasn’t scared of him, not in this moment, but he truly looked murderous.
But Julian wasn’t in the mood to de-escalate. “Looks like we’re having dinner after all, sweet.” The words were directed at me, but he didn’t take his eyes off Raphael.
Raphael launched a fist square at his chest, and Julian managed to catch it.
He didn’t manage to catch the next one, which Raphael landed directly in his face. The king’s mask dropped askew, momentarily blocking his vision. Raphael hauled him up—
And threw him into another column twenty feet away.
The southern king was still doubled over when Raphael reached him. He’s going to kill him, I realized. Raphael had absolutely lost it. I scanned the crowd wildly for Demos, but the general was still nowhere to be found. No one else raced forward to intervene.
“Raphael!” I hiked my dress and ran over.
He didn’t look away, instead kicking at the other vampire.
I had to get through to him. “Raphael,” I pleaded again.
Julian had begun to stand again, and took all of Raphael’s focus.
He paid me no heed, slamming a hand around Julian’s throat to pin him in place. There was no doubt in my mind that Raphael intended murder. All over a stupid bet. And then what? The others wouldn’t let this stand.
“Raphael,” I cried out, desperation pushing my voice higher. “Stop it!”
His fist froze midair.
He turned to me, and I realized I had erred grievously. I should have said nothing. Let them fight it out. Let Julian die.
Because Raphael hadn’t stopped due to the desperation in my voice.
He’d stopped because I’d used my magic on him.
Which meant he now knew I was the necromancer.
And he would have to kill me.