Chapter Forty-Six
Samara
Raphael insisted on carrying me the entire way from the forest back to the castle.
He paid no heed to the stares through Limanos—no, that wasn’t accurate.
If anything, he stood taller, imperious with me in his arms, his jacket from last night still around me.
Despite our disheveled state, no one questioned Raphael even once.
“Demos is going to be really annoyed,” I grumbled against the crook between his arm and shoulder as we made our way through the hallways.
“With any luck, he won’t know we’re back until we’ve had a chance to bathe,” he replied as we rounded the corner to our chambers.
“Or at least until I pick the twigs out of my hair.”
His chuckle thrummed against my chest. “And here I thought perhaps you were trying to start a fashion trend.”
“Is that what the leaves in your hair are?”
I waited for Raphael’s retort, but he’d halted in front of our door. He paused a moment to set me down. Then he threw open the door.
There was the southern king in our chambers, sitting on our couch, one ankle crossed over his knee.
His arms were spread wide over the back of the frame, with a mostly empty goblet dangling from his fingers.
A half smirk was carved on his face, obviously expecting our arrival and hoping to have caught us off guard.
“Julian.”
Raphael subtly positioned himself between us.
Without the masks, their shared blood was obvious.
Mirror images of the same lean build, same angular jaw, same long legs.
But though their features may have been identical, they wore them differently.
What was seductive and lethal, equal parts allure and danger on Raphael, seemed like a big joke from Julian. A joke only he was in on.
He almost looked no worse for the wear from yesterday’s brawl, but there was a distinct change in his presence.
Julian could act like everything was a joke, but there was the same deadly energy radiating from him that I’d recognized around Raphael.
He just worked to disguise it under finery and a flippant tone.
“And here I was wondering if you’d done something like run off without saying goodbye,” Julian drawled. “My feelings were hurt.”
“Your feelings aren’t my priority,” was Raphael’s curt response.
“Nor is my physical well-being.” He snorted.
“Not that that’s any news. No, no, don’t apologize.
” He flicked his free hand at us, as if that’s what Raphael was going to do.
“But there was something curious I didn’t get to address with you before you ran off.
I figured I’d wait for you to come back. ”
Raphael took a step forward, claiming more of the room. “Say your piece and go, then.”
“I’m sure you’re looking to be alone with your fledgling again. My beds are more comfortable than cold, hard earth.” He raked his gaze over me, my torn dress and messed-up hair, the implication obvious.
“Julian.” There was no mistaking the warning in Raphael’s voice.
“Fine.” The smirk dropped from his lips. “I’d love to hear what possible explanation you could have for making the necromancer you were supposed to kill immortal.”
I froze.
He knew.
“It took me a moment to realize, given everything,” Julian drawled.
“At first, I thought perhaps you had just decided to stop attacking your little brother because a female’s touch had somehow softened you.
It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?
But then you didn’t fight back at all. And still, I thought perhaps you were just eager to chase down your fledgling.
Sire’s obligation and all. But there was one thing that cemented it for me. Do you know what it was?”
“I imagine you love the sound of your voice enough to continue on this insulting theory until you’re done.” Raphael was moving closer to Julian. He didn’t sound worried, but down the bond, I felt it. Tension.
Julian took a final sip of his blood and set the goblet down with a thud.
“You were so rarely one for wordplay, but I suppose we all learn. I thought about our conversation the other day. How righteous you were, playing offended, when I asked if you’d killed the necromancer.
‘Have I ever failed to before?’ was what you said.
” He shook his head. “Which wasn’t a yes.
But I let it go. Because I thought I knew my brother.
Of all people, surely you would never let one of that bitch’s avatars live.
” Julian narrowed his eyes. “How wrong I was.”
If I searched Julian’s face, I could almost convince myself there was something like true hurt behind Julian’s words. But I didn’t know him well enough, and right now the same voice that had screamed inside for me to flee Raphael was telling me Julian was a threat.
“Nothing to say in your defense?” Julian demanded.
“Nothing you’re ready to hear.” Raphael’s words were soft steel. No apology, but no harsher than a whisper.
Julian sighed, as if he hadn’t truly expected any other answer. “It’s not too late to kill her. We can get past this.”
A fresh wave of terror slammed into me at the cold, casual discussion of my death, but Raphael simply rolled his shoulders back. “That won’t be happening.”
“And if I say I’ll kill the scourge anyway?”
“No one will be hurting Samara,” Raphael growled.
Julian surged from the couch, but Raphael was already moving. They collided halfway through the room, fingers locked as they grappled for control.
“You’d betray your own brother for one of Anagenni’s?” Julian snarled.
Raphael pushed Julian back. “She’s not Anagenni’s. She’s mine.”
This wasn’t the explosive match of yesterday.
Did I run for Demos? What if Raphael needed me? What if Julian called for reinforcements? I drew my copper blade and made for the door. Demos would be more help than I could be.
“Don’t go,” Raphael called to me, not taking his eyes off Julian.
I hesitated. What was Raphael going to do? Would he really kill his brother? For me? But that would leave us in an even more dangerous situation.
Raphael tackled Julian to the couch, locking his neck against the headrest with his fingers.
“You got stronger,” Julian rasped. “Her blood?”
Raphael bared his fangs and hissed. Then he twisted to look at me. “Samara, listen. You need to use your magic to make Julian forget you’re the necromancer.”
“Traitor.” Julian clawed at Raphael’s hands.
“You can do it,” Raphael told me when I stayed back. “You know how.”
I swallowed. Could I? I’d practiced enough thralling humans.
It’s survival. Julian was still straining against Raphael’s grip. How long could he hold him there?
There was no time to hesitate. I didn’t let go of my dagger as I approached.
But that wouldn’t be my weapon. No, that would be my magic.
For the first time, as I looked at Julian, I truly tried to call it forward.
To thrall humans, I needed eye contact. I wasn’t sure it was the same for vampires, however.
“Julian. Stop fighting Raphael and focus on me.”
The vampire went still, now facing me. The undead bow to the necromancer.
No, this wasn’t the same as the thrall. I’d had to work to activate the thrall, to carefully hone. This felt as easy as taking a single step forward in a blooming field.
“I’ll fight you—” he ground out, even as Raphael still choked him.
I looked at Raphael. He’d mentioned that he’d had time to prepare and could block me.
“He’s bluffing. Do it now, Samara. I can’t hold him for long.”
Fine.
“You’re going to forget I’m the necromancer. You’re going to forget any suspicion about me being the necromancer—or any kind of witch,” I added. Hopefully, that was broad enough. “When Raphael lets you go, you’ll forget why you two were fighting.”
Raphael looked at me, and I realized that might still leave questions.
“Or even that you fought today at all. You won’t notice anything amiss. Instead, you’ll think you came here to . . . to . . . to invite us to dinner.”
That was plausible. He seemed like the type to try to rub his brother’s face in that as soon as possible. Raphael gave a slight huff, but an annoying family dinner was a low price to pay to get rid of Julian without rousing suspicion.
“How do we know it worked?” I asked Raphael.
“It worked.” He sounded far more confident than I felt. “Let your magic fall away and we’ll be fine.”
Julian looked only slightly dazed, not quite the same as the humans. But if ever there were a moment to trust Raphael, this was it.
He let Julian go but didn’t retreat, standing over him on the couch where he’d just been choking him.
“What do you want?” Raphael demanded.
Julian blinked, as if his mind were just catching up, no doubt trying to piece together what had happened. In any case, he recovered in seconds, smirking at Raphael like he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I was waiting here to invite you to dinner. Your lovely fledgling lost a bet with me.”
Was that the effect of my magic? Or was he just good at faking control?
“Fine,” Raphael said. “Deal’s a deal. Now leave us be.”
Julian arched a brow in suspicion. “You’re taking this surprisingly well. I expected more of an argument.”
He might not remember what had happened, but that didn’t mean he didn’t come here expecting to rile up Raphael.
“Let me spare us your tiresome game.” Raphael rolled his eyes like he hadn’t just had him in a choke hold a minute ago.
Instead he sounded only a hint irritated, like he sometimes got with Thea.
“You expect me to try to get out of it, and then you’ll try to rile me with the terms of the arrangements.
We’ll bicker, acting beneath both of our stations, and in the end I’ll acquiesce to shut you up and be rid of you.
Let’s cut to the part where I’m rid of you. ”
“Very well. Dinner’s at midnight.” Julian rose, flicking some dirt off Raphael’s shoulder.
“Try to clean up before then—some of us still have standards.” He crossed the room and caught my hand, pressing a kiss to it before I could stop him.
“Lady Samara. You, I am without a doubt, will exceed all standards.”
I didn’t dare flinch for fear something would give away what we’d done. He made a disappointed sound and then was gone in another flash, the door closing behind him with a soft clink.
I turned to Raphael, but he pressed a finger to his lips. The rooms were enchanted to muffle any noise, but with Julian anywhere nearby, he was right not to trust. He headed to the bathroom, and I followed. He shut the door behind us.
“Is it safe now?” I finally dared ask.
Raphael ran the back of his palm over my cheek. I leaned into the touch, not caring we were both filthy. “Julian won’t be a threat. One obnoxious dinner, we can endure.”
He made it sound so easy. And maybe he was right. Maybe it worked. “He won’t notice the memories are different, though?”
Raphael shook his head. “You took only a short time. His mind will quickly fill in the gaps.”
“The memories won’t come back? What if . . . what if it doesn’t last?”
What if I’m weak? What if I did it wrong?
“You did well, Samara. Trust yourself,” he urged.
“The bigger danger is when a great number of memories are tampered with. The mind struggles with that kind of thing far more than a brief omission. It’s harder to control the ripple effect.
For this, though, he’s only suspected for a day.
Clearly, he thought to confront us here as an ambush. ”
Okay. That made sense. Down the bond, I felt nothing but certainty, though I was sure Raphael could feel my trepidation. “He made it sound so . . . personal with Anagenni. That you were betraying him by not killing me.”
Raphael furrowed his brow. “He says a lot of idiotic things. It’s, regrettably, a hazard of his company.”
Despite myself, I smiled. Raphael’s hand dropped to my shoulder, and he slipped the jacket off.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Well . . .” Raphael drew out the word, laying it thick with implication. “You still have twigs in your hair, and I likely still have leaves on me. We have about three hours until we need to deal with my brother again.”
“So you’re thinking we should make sure we meet Julian’s standards?” I snorted.
“I’m thinking that I’m going to bathe my woman,” Raphael said slowly. “And then I’m going to see how it feels to fingerfuck her in that tub until she’s forgotten my brother’s name.”
Well.
That didn’t sound like a bad offer at all.