Chapter Fifty
Raphael
Awareness thrummed through Raphael, waking him in an instant.
Someone was trying to enter his room. He stayed still so as to not give anything away. With Samara finally resting in his arms, someone had almost signed their own death warrant.
But he knew the citrus scent on the wind, the urgent heartbeat.
“Let me in,” Amalthea hissed. “Before someone sees.”
He extricated himself from the bed, careful not to disturb his viper. He pulled a sliver of the thick curtain back. The oracle was perched on the ledge, the remnants of the wind that had carried her over fading.
The windows were enchanted; it wasn’t glass that kept any potential intruders out, but a ward. He tapped the rune at the edge, the slight sting allowing Thea in.
“You’re supposed to be in Ioni,” he said, voice low with unspoken question. He never doubted Thea’s loyalty; she would only have come if it was urgent.
“Ophelia knows,” Thea said in a rush. “She got a messenger wyvern, and she’s at my heels. I doubt she’s half an hour behind me.”
The words hit Raphael like a blow. Julian must have written to Ophelia the moment Raphael had gone after Samara at the ball; the tiny drakes would normally need two days to cross between countries.
It wouldn’t matter that Julian was thralled into forgetting if he’d already committed the words to paper.
Raphael cursed himself. He’d been sloppy. Now they would all pay the price.
No. There was still time to act. If Thea had arrived with a magical transport card, it would have taken her at least six or eight hours to cross from Ioni to Limanos. That would’ve given the oracle time to strategize, to commune with her three-faced goddess and see a way out.
She’d never failed him before. She wouldn’t now. In this, Raphael trusted.
“Wake Sam. We need her for this. I’ll get Demos.” She didn’t wait for Raphael’s leave—she never did, crossing through the rooms without hesitation. She must have spied on them on the journey, mapping her path.
Fuck. He crossed to the other side of the bed, kneeling as he put a hand on Samara’s shoulder. She looked so sweet like this, so gentle. Finally safe enough to sleep in a bed, knowing he would keep her so.
And he had to ruin it.
“Samara. I need you to wake.”
“Huh?” She was groggy, but at least she was responsive. Proof of how much stronger she had grown as a fledgling these past few weeks. Another month of drinking his blood and she would be nearly immune to the restraints of the dawn-to-dusk sleep.
“Awaken.” He resisted adding the push of the fledgling bond behind it. She’d told him she never wanted to feel it again.
She shifted, eyes blinking the sleep away. “What is it?”
“Amalthea’s here. Try not to panic, but there’s trouble that can’t wait.” Better to keep it vague until they were all here. He pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt. Samara had worn one of his shirts to sleep in, and she put on her own set of riding slacks.
The oracle was already returning with Iademos, so he let the oracle explain. Julian had sent a letter to Ophelia identifying Samara as the necromancer, and Raphael as her sire who had knowingly turned her.
“She’s-she’s going to kill me?” Samara said quietly. The slight stutter was the only fear she let out. Her body was stiff, eyes focused. As if she’d known this would be inevitable.
It shouldn’t have been.
“I won’t let her,” Raphael vowed. He never should have had ordered Demos away on a task the other evening. That had meant his general hadn’t been there to spy on Julian’s movements after the masquerade. The others wouldn’t have realized what had happened.
“Even you can’t stand against two kingdoms. Not to mention your own kingdom will mutiny. I told you this was a terrible idea,” Demos snapped.
“That’s not productive,” Thea snapped back. “Look, we have less than twenty minutes. The queen has a transport card, probably strong enough for her and another guard or two, but she won’t know exactly where to go. That gives us a small window to act, and no time to hesitate. Do you understand?”
The three of them nodded.
“Right now, the only two vampires who know for sure about this are Demos and Raphael. Sam, if you use your magic to make them forget you’re the necromancer, they’ll be able to honestly say they don’t believe you’re the necromancer.”
Samara looked between him and Demos with wide eyes. “I couldn’t.”
“If that’s what it takes to survive, you’ll do it,” Raphael told her. No cost was too high. He wasn’t convinced this was a perfect solution, but his own plans involved fleeing back to Damerel as soon as possible. If Ophelia was minutes from the palace, they didn’t have time.
“Even if I do that, I will know,” Samara said. “If they ask me, I’ll have to tell the truth. If I even have a chance to testify.”
She’d be given some leeway as Raphael’s fledgling. But it was unlikely she’d be able to maneuver around a direct question. And if he had no memories, he wouldn’t be able to help her. That was perhaps the most terrifying aspect of this.
Thea would have known that. Which meant there was more to this plan.
“I’ve thought of that. Raphael and Demos will likely be suspect, but at least they won’t be sentenced to death for knowingly harboring the necromancer. Let alone turning you, making their long-standing enemy immortal.”
Raphael growled in warning. Samara had been unaware just how much personal risk he’d taken on in keeping her secrets, and he hadn’t wanted her to worry about it.
“That’s why you and I will flee,” Thea said quickly. “Temporarily. But I can’t risk telling you where, not when there’s the slightest chance Sam’s magic could wear off and expose her.”
She added the last part when Raphael glared, obviously ready to protest.
It could work. Raphael just hated every part of the plan: the part where he would willingly forget something about the woman he loved, the part where he would be separating from her, unable to protect her, and perhaps most of all the part where those memories might not come back—not completely.
Erasing Samara’s existence as the necromancer would create holes in his ancient mind.
But he couldn’t voice those doubts. Thea’s plan made sense and would keep his viper safe. The oracle hadn’t steered him wrong yet, even when it meant doing something he didn’t want to.
Samara looked at him, seeking reassurance. He wished he could give it to her honestly.
He faced the oracle again. “You’ve seen this? This is the only path forward?”
“You trust me or you don’t,” she hissed. “There’s no time to hesitate.”
She stared each of them down. Demos held her gaze the longest, while Raphael looked back at Samara.
“Do it.”