I told him what had happened with my magic—selectively, of course, leaving out the specifics of my argument with Raihn. I didn’t need any more of Vincent’s disapproval than I already had on that front.

He listened in silence, face stoic. When I was done, I watched for some sign of surprise, of concern, and found none.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “I have never been able to do anything like that. Not even when you were training me.”

He was silent for a few seconds before answering, like he had to think about what to say next. “We always knew you had talents.”

The faintest tug at the corner of his mouth. Just a hint of pride.

We? Maybe he did—maybe, I was a bit skeptical—but I never thought I could do anything like that.

“But I never had before.”

“Magic is an unpredictable force, and your life has changed dramatically these last few weeks.”

I stared flatly at him, unconvinced.

“I’m not a vampire. I’m not one of Nyaxia’s children. How could I have wielded that kind of power from her arts?”

“You offered your blood to Nyaxia. You offered her your life. That offering does not go unrecognized. And many have been able to wield powers that traditional wisdom said they couldn’t.”

I thought of Mische and her flames—a vampire wielding the power of Atroxus.

“Perhaps some part of you knows that you need this power now more than ever. So learn it. Use it.” He leaned closer, eyes cold with fervor. “Nothing matters but this, Oraya. Nothing. Step over temporary barriers. Once you win, the world is yours. That is the time for dreaming. But this? This is the time for conquering.”

I, once again, barely returned to the Moon Palace in time for dawn. By the time I made it back to our apartment, the sun was already peeking over the horizon. I came in just as Mische was heading back into her room, but Raihn once again stood at the window, forearm braced against it, curtains parted.

He peered over his shoulder, giving me a little smirk. “Welcome back.”

“You aren’t going to ask me where I was?”

“I’ve learned it’s more fun to be surprised by you. Besides, I think I know. You ready to start tomorrow?”

I thought about the last time we’d played out this moment and just how poorly it went. Briefly, I wondered whether I was insane.

But there was a Halfmoon trial to win.

Now is the time for conquering, Vincent whispered in my ear.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be ready.”

I started to go to my room, and then succumbed to my curiosity and turned back.

“Why do you do that?” I asked.

“Hm?”

“It must hurt.”

“Not too bad yet.”

“But… why? Why do you do it?”

He was silent for a long moment, then smiled at me.

“Get some rest,” he said. “We have a lot of work to do.”

It struck me as completely unfair that he got to see my secret but refused to explain his own stupid self-destructive habits. I decided that refraining from pointing out this hypocrisy was my first step to being a decent ally.

“Well, don’t burn yourself so badly that you’re going to be useless tomorrow,” I said as I turned away. “Won’t do much to convince me this is a good idea.”

“You say that like you aren’t desperate.”

I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and went back to my room.

I did not miss Mische peering around the corner of her door, not even bothering to hide her eavesdropping nor her grin.

INTERLUDE

The little girl was no longer a little girl. Now she was a young woman. At sixteen years old, she now thought she understood her place in her unique world. But something strange happened in those hazy years between childhood and adulthood. The things she desired changed. The things she noticed changed.

Vampires are beautiful people.

This is almost universally true. Their flesh is smooth and soft, their features bright and striking, their voices sweet and melodic. They are often the kind of beautiful that leaves a mark on one’s soul—the kind that visits you again as you lie awake in bed at night, thinking about the shape of those lips.

The young woman had learned to numb herself to this. She had been taught relentlessly to view the beings that surrounded her as deadly monsters. It was only as she grew older that she began to view them as dangerous not for all the ways they were monstrous, but for all the ways they were not.

Let us be clear: she was a smart girl. She knew how to survive.

But all living creatures desire. Is that weakness?

One night, the young woman met a young vampire man. She did not often interact with members of her father’s court. But this boy, too, seemed like an outsider. He was young, only a few years older than her. He was the most stunning creature she had ever seen—his face the flawless combination of hard angles and gentle curves, rendered in shades of warmth that hinted at what he had once been.

Yes, he had been Turned.

He was a lonely young man. She was a lonely young woman. Is it anything but inevitable that something should form between them?

Perhaps he himself did not understand the weapon of the skin he wore.

Perhaps he was attracted to her because she reminded him of what he once was.

Perhaps he even thought he loved her.

The young woman had never thought much of love. She had not been fed tales of storybook princesses; she did not dream of true love’s kiss saving her from her treacherous life. But the memory of this boy’s mouth still visited her at night. If it was love to want someone, perhaps this was it.

She was so, so young. Hard in some ways. Softly naive in others. She did not truly understand, yet, that vampires shone as the silver teeth of traps shone. Their beauty was a beckoning hand, promising sweet caresses.

The little serpent was so very lonely. She slithered right into those lovely, elegant fingers. She did not even see the claws.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I thought that perhaps if we were very, very lucky, Raihn and I could manage not to kill each other, but I hadn’t expected that we would work well together.

Those first few nights in the districts were far from perfect. Having a mutual goal that we actually cared about helped, but we still found ourselves tripping over each other. Raihn’s wall of a body managed to get in my way whenever I needed to move fast. His strikes always took our target out of my line of attack at just the wrong moment. In one memorably painful instance, his wing hit me so hard that it flung me into a wall like a swatted fly.

But there was no shortage of targets. The vampires of the inner city had happily turned the district into their hunting ground in my absence. So we continued, breaking down the barrier between us bit by bit.

Five nights in, and I realized we’d gone an entire trip without either of us accidentally—or intentionally—hitting the other.

Six nights, and I realized we hadn’t even stepped on each other’s feet all day.

Seven nights, and we actually managed to complement each other, dismantling one of our targets with seamless efficiency. We’d stopped and stared at each other afterwards, wide-eyed, like we had both witnessed a miracle and didn’t quite want to jeopardize it by acknowledging it aloud. Of course, after that, we’d gotten in each other’s way for the rest of the night, but I’d take what I could get.

On the eighth night, I fell back and simply watched him work. By then, I’d started to gain an innate understanding of how he moved, and observing him with that in mind crystalized all of my observations into conclusions.