Then his stare fell back to me, the smirk returned, and once again I was looking at a vampire, toying with me in terms I was innately familiar with.

A performance. This was someone who cared very much about what people thought of him. I knew that much already from his little outburst at the feast, goading that poor bastard into attacking him so he had an excuse to be the first to draw blood.

He swung his legs down and leaned forward. With that movement, I twitched backwards, drawing a step closer to the wall.

“What?” he said. “Do I smell?”

“I told you to get out.”

“You think I came here for a meal? That’s my grand intention?”

His intention was worth shit. Vampires had notoriously poor self-control when confronted with human blood. My life would be a lot safer if protecting me was just a matter of Vincent threatening painful and horrible death upon anyone who hurt me. Coming after me was a logically unwise decision. They all knew it would result in their execution… or worse. But they might not even decide to do it, they might just be overcome by—

The memory was as sharp as ever—lips on my throat, a kiss deepening to a nip deepening to a vicious stab of pain—

“What was that?”

I jerked back to reality. Mother, the blood loss must be getting to me, to let my mind wander off like that. Raihn still wore that little smirk, but now a wrinkle of curiosity deepened between his dark brows.

“Where did you go?”

That unnerved me more than I’d ever admit aloud—the fact that he saw whatever had just changed on my face.

“I told you,” I spat, “to get—”

“What are you going to do? Stab me?”

He looked pointedly at my blades. Daring me. Mocking me, because we both knew I couldn’t, not in this state.

“That thigh looks bad. It’s a little poetic, isn’t it?” He touched his thigh—still bandaged.

Sure. Fucking poetic.

“I brought you something for that.”

He reached into his pack and pulled out a blue crystal bottle, contents thrumming with a light shimmer.

Mother. At the sight, I almost leapt for it just on impulse. How had he found that, if even Vincent was struggling to get his hands on it?

Raihn placed the potion on the stone beside him, then rested his forearms on his knees and watched me.

“You know,” he said casually, “I heard some of the others talking before the first round. Betting on who would survive. Your name was worth shit, because everyone was so sure you’d be the first to die.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction, and I refused to give him one.

“But I thought better,” he went on. “I knew you were one to watch. That you weren’t just some ordinary human. The great Nightborn King’s human pet.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d been referred to that way, and it wouldn’t be the last, but I still bristled. I was in so much pain that it was more difficult than usual to keep my temper at bay.

Calm down, Oraya. Anger means an accelerated heart rate. A higher heart rate means your scent is stronger. Give them nothing.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t know exactly what he was doing. Baiting me, just like he had baited that man at the feast. If I was the serpent, he was poking me with a stick to see when I’d snap it in two.

“Did he teach you how to fight like that? He must have, right?” He nodded to my weapons, still braced in front of me. “He gave you those, obviously. Nightborn craftsmanship. The good shit.”

“Are you deaf, or just stupid?”

“You’re unfriendly.”

What did he think he was accomplishing here? Did he think I was so easy to manipulate? Did he think I didn’t know what this was?

“Why are you here?” I snapped. By now, I struggled to hide the labor of my breathing and maintain the strength in my voice. “For entertainment? I’m boring as shit, I promise you.”

“I can see that.”

“Stop playing with me. I don’t have the patience.”

Again, the corner of his mouth lifted in a grim, satisfied smirk. “Or time,” he said flatly, his eyes falling to my wounded thigh.

My jaw snapped closed. His gaze flicked back to mine, and for a long moment we just stared at each other, locked in a wordless conversation.

I knew it was the truth. He knew I knew it. I hated that he knew I knew it.

“Then stop wasting it,” I spat out, at last. “What do you want?”

“Who will you ally with for the Halfmoon trial?”

I blinked. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting—more games, maybe—but it wasn’t that.

It was a good question. An important question. The choice of ally for the Halfmoon trial was a critical strategic decision. It needed to be someone strong enough to keep you in the top fifty percent of contestants during the Halfmoon, but not too strong, because they then became your greatest competition in the final two trials.

While the exact nature of the trial changed in every Kejari, those three important elements remained constant: the fact that it required cooperation, that it resulted in the death of half the participants… and that many, many contestants would be killed in their sleep immediately after it, most often by former allies who decided they were more risk than reward.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t keep the wince from flitting across my nose.

Raihn let out a low chuckle. “I thought so.” Then he said, with no hesitation, “Ally with me.”

My eyebrows shot up.

Vincent had often chided me for my poor control over my facial expressions, and at this one, Raihn laughed again.

“Ally with… you,” I said.

“Me and Mische.”

Mische. Was that the name of the short-haired girl? The one with the fire?

“We claimed a room near the top of the towers,” he went on. “It’s secure. Big—a whole apartment. Safe. Or safer than this place, at least.”

This didn’t feel right. “Why?”

“Because you impressed me.”

“Bullshit.”

His brows twitched in the faintest hint of surprise, like he was genuinely not expecting this answer.

“Excuse me?”

“You haven’t said a single true thing since you strode in here, so I’ll be honest for both of us. I’m a human. We both know that makes me the weakest one here. You have your pick of fifty stronger vampires you could ally with. And you expect me to believe you want me?”

He examined a cut on his ring finger. “Only forty, now, actually. Look, you beat warriors that outclassed you many times over tonight. You and I…” His gaze raised back to me. “We worked well together, didn’t we? And I like an underdog.”

“Bull. Shit.” I jabbed one of my blades at him for emphasis with each word. “Do other people fall for this? Give me one honest thing, or get out, like I’ve been telling you to since you showed up.”

I didn’t trust anyone in this place. But I especially didn’t trust someone who pursued me under such blatantly false pretenses. The very fact that he wanted to ally with me made him the least trustworthy one here, because no sane person would want to do such a thing. And I could handle selfish motivations—I expected them—but not when I didn’t know what they were.

He blinked twice, biting the inside of his cheek. I couldn’t tell if he was insulted or if he was fighting back laughter.

Finally, he said, “All the other decent fighters that are people I could actually tolerate are already allied.”

“And?”

“And?”

“Not enough. Keep going. You already have your friend. Why invite another?”

“I’m curious about you. Can you blame me? Everyone is. Vincent’s little human princess, kept in a glass palace where everyone could look but never touch.” He glanced around, smiling wryly at the greenhouse’s crystal walls. “Are you missing your glass castle, princess?”

I wouldn’t let him bait me, not even if I did find myself shifting in irritation at that characterization.

But the mention of Vincent triggered a wave of understanding. This, at least, made sense. Maybe it was the first thing out of Raihn’s mouth that I actually believed.