But the hours had passed. I lay on my bed and watched the sunlight filter through the curtains as guilt settled in my stomach like a disagreeable meal. I realized that killing that vampire—saving those humans—had made me feel powerful. And the guilt was fading, but the strength was not.

Was my guilt worth more than the life of the human woman I’d saved? Were Vincent’s arbitrary rules worth more than the countless other humans that monster would have killed, if he hadn’t been stopped? No. I hadn’t felt guilty about killing that man. I felt guilty about lying to my father.

But Vincent had made me this way, and a lie was a petty sin.

I realized that day, as I stared at the sunlight-speckled ceiling, that I’d gone a full twenty-four hours without thinking about the face that haunted me.

I wish I could say it was my noble intentions that brought me back to the slums the next night. But it wasn’t. It was my own selfishness. I’d rather dream of these dying faces than the other one. At least this made me stronger instead of weaker.

Now, I felt nothing when I killed but the satisfaction of a job well done. A mark etched upon the world. That was worth something, to a mortal living amongst immortal beings. A way for me to tell this place, You think my life is worth nothing, but I can still leave a stain on you that can’t be washed out.

My hands itched now to leave that mark, like an opium addict twitching for their next fix. But dawn was too close, and the human districts were far from the Moon Palace on foot. I couldn’t risk that journey.

Instead, I walked back the slow way, winding through deserted back paths. I remained close to the Lituro River, one of two tributaries that broke up the city and converged to form the inner city of Sivrinaj, right where the Nightborn castle sat. I often looked out over this view from my room. From up there, the streams were serene and peaceful, like elegant winding streaks of paint through the city.

Up close, it smelled like piss.

I paused at the riverbed and watched the water trickle by. A breeze trembled my hair, and with it came a warm, familiar scent—tobacco.

The hairs rose on the back of my neck. I wasn’t alone.

I glanced to my left to see another figure standing near the water, a cigarillo to his lips. He lifted his chin and let out a long exhale, the smoke silver as it caught the moonlight.

The smell hit me again, stronger, and with it came a wave of familiarity that made that seeping wound in my chest ache.

I half expected to hear Ilana’s cough. To see her face when I turned around. And Mother, I needed that. I craved it even more than I craved power.

“Hey.”

My hand on my blade, I approached the figure.

“Can I have one of those? I’ll buy it off you.”

What is wrong with you? I heard Vincent’s voice hiss in my ear. Approaching a stranger? For what?

The figure turned, cold light falling across only the lower part of his face, highlighting moon-pale skin, a narrow, angular jaw, and lips that curled slightly.

“Of course. Help yourself.”

His hand, clad in leather gloves, reached from beneath his long coat, holding a little wooden box. I reached to take it from him, but his grip didn’t let up.

He cocked his head, the movement allowing moonlight to creep further across his face. He was handsome, his features elegant and too sharp, like honed steel. Beneath a swoop of hair that was either silver or very fair blond—it was impossible to tell in the darkness—a set of yellow-amber eyes narrowed at me, then brightened in recognition.

“I know you.”

He smiled. It was the sort of smile that no doubt loosened undergarments and opened throats all over Obitraes.

“Oh?” I said.

He released the box, and I put distance between us as I slid it open and withdrew a cigarillo. Mother, I wanted to shove my face into this box. Just inhale that familiar scent and pretend it was my friend.

“I saw you in the Full Moon trial. Had a lot of bets hinged on you.” He chuckled softly and shook his head, the light catching a single ruby dangling from one ear. “The odds against you were staggering. Lot of people lost a lot of money.”

He struck a match and offered me the flame. I leaned just close enough to light my cigarillo, mumbled a thank you, and drew away.

“Sorry about your coin purse.”

A different, slower smile rolled across his lips. “Sorry? Oh no, dove. I don’t make bets I lose.” I offered him the box, and he shook his head. “Keep it. You paid for it.”

He turned away, offering one more inscrutable glance as he walked down the path. “Looking forward to tomorrow. Good luck out there.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I considered not returning to the apartment, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was half-surprised that nobody held the door shut as I turned my key and entered. Raihn hadn’t returned, and Mische swept glass from the floor. The shattered window was still wide open, a strong breeze making her short, curly hair flutter about her face like butterfly wings.

She gave me a big grin when I walked in, like she was genuinely thrilled to see me. “You’re here!”

She seemed a little surprised. I was, too, frankly.

“Want me to patch that up?” I gestured to the window.

“Oh, no. I’ll do something with it once Raihn comes home.”

Home, she said, so casually. Like this place was a home.

I nodded and wandered closer. She had already cleaned up most of the broken glass, now just sweeping the smallest pieces into a little tray to throw in the garbage. I felt embarrassed, like a small child after throwing a temper tantrum.

“Do you need help?”

“No,” she said cheerfully. “But thank you!” She waved to the table. “Sit. There’s food.”

I wasn’t hungry, but I joined her anyway. She took a seat and sipped a goblet of blood, and though she had gestured to the chair across from hers, I still picked the one on the opposite end of the table.

Instead of reaching for the food, I pulled out the cigarillo box.

“Do you mind?”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Life is too short not to indulge.”

What an odd thing for a vampire to say. Vampire lives were not short by any measure. But then again… didn’t everyone have a short life, in here?

And besides, Mische was the most unusual vampire I’d ever met.

I watched her sip her blood, looking content as she gazed out the window. Like the fight earlier hadn’t even fazed her.

“Can I ask you a question, Mische?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Why are you with Raihn?”

Her face snapped to me, aghast. “With Raihn? I’m not with Raihn.”

“No… I know you’re not with him like that.” I’d wondered about it at first, especially since vampires fucked like rabbits, but it became quickly obvious that Mische and Raihn had a platonic relationship. They slept in separate bedrooms and treated each other far more like siblings than lovers.

Still, that only made it harder to understand. They were just so different. I couldn’t imagine dragging someone like Mische into a tournament like this. At least if they were fucking, I could understand it even if I didn’t agree with it. People did all kinds of nonsensical things when blinded by good sex.

And Raihn looked like he was probably very good at sex.

That thought shocked me the minute it crossed my mind, and I slammed my mental doors against it as hard as I could.

“He’s my best friend,” Mische said simply, as if that explained everything.

“But… why?”

She threw her head back and let out a high, full laugh.

“I’m going to tell him that sometime,” she said when she collected herself. “Your face! But… why?” Her imitation of my voice was comically low and flat, her face twisting into an expression of exaggerated disgust.