But even more gruesomely impressive than the food was the sheer amount of blood. There was so, so much blood. Bowls of it at every seat, every table. Flavored blood. Alcoholic blood. Blood in every possible presentation—baked into food, offered in carafes, presented in golden basins. Goblets were never far from reach. Drunken partygoers had already adorned the tablecloth and floor with splashes of red.

My stomach turned in a way that surprised me.

I should have been grateful—with this much available, I was as safe as I ever would be surrounded by so many vampires. And I was no stranger to what vampire feasts often looked like.

So why did this bother me? Why did I find myself thinking so much more about where it all might have come from?

I stepped into the room and passed several of my fellow contestants sprawled out in their chairs, already having gorged themselves on all manners of delicacies. I wondered if this was intentional. Perhaps this was the last blood any of them would be seeing for quite some time.

The other guests paid more attention to me than I ever would have tolerated before. I felt their eyes and had to remind myself not to shrink beneath them, acutely aware of every expanse of bare skin I now left on display. When a pack of five vampires blatantly swiveled their heads after me, staring with a terrifying mix of curiosity, hunger, and wariness, the primal part of me that had been trained my entire life to avoid this very scenario actually considered leaving.

Instead, I touched the scarf on my neck—touched the stain of my friend’s blood.

You are no fucking coward, Oraya, I heard her whisper.

No. I was not.

I looked around for Raihn, but—

Light footsteps approached, and I turned to meet them before they got too close. Vincent stood before me, a tight smile at the corner of his mouth.

I hadn’t seen him in this much light since the Kejari started—not up close. He wore black, his jacket open at the neck to reveal most of his Heir Mark. His wings were out, too, the red at their edges especially striking under this lighting. I wondered if he ever hid them now, or if he needed to make sure they were always visible, with his rule under attack.

It wasn’t the clothing, or the Mark, or the wings that shocked me, though. It was his face. His eyes looked uncannily bright, just because the darkness beneath them was so pronounced. Every plane of his expression was sharp and pinched, as if he’d set each feature in stone. And yet, the control in it was cracking. I sensed it before. Now, it was chillingly stark.

It all softened, of course, when he saw me.

I stiffened, two impulses warring with each other.

I looked at him and saw the way he had seemed ready to hurl himself into that pit during the trial.

And… I looked at him and saw Raihn’s back. Heard the lie he had told me.

I hadn’t had the chance to wrestle my anger into something I could cage, and showing Vincent untamed emotions was a dangerous prospect.

Still, he seemed so, so relieved to see me. He took in my appearance, a faint wrinkle of confusion passing over his brow.

“What are you wearing?”

“Something different.”

My words were curt. I didn’t feel like explaining.

“It’s unwise.”

Unwise to expose so much of myself. Unwise to draw attention. Unwise to wear anything other than armor.

“I know,” I said.

He didn’t seem to know what to do with that. He gave me an odd look, like he was just noticing something new about me. Maybe in the same way I had just noticed something new about him.

Vincent was never the type to drop a topic, so I was mildly surprised when he let his expression smooth and instead offered me his hand. “A dance?”

“A dance?”

My nose scrunched up without my permission, and he gave a dry chuckle of amusement. “Such an outrageous prospect?”

“I—” I stopped myself before I let myself speak. Still, my face was, as always, too expressive. He glimpsed the anger I didn’t want to show him, anyway.

“Something bothers you.”

“I saw what your men did to Raihn.”

“Raihn?”

“My ally.”

His face fell. “Ah.”

“You—” I had to choose my words carefully. “You told me you wouldn’t break him.”

“Nothing about him seemed broken,” Vincent said simply. “I didn’t witness Jesmine’s methods, but I saw him fight well in that trial.”

Fought well in spite of the relentless torture he had endured.

I said nothing, because I didn’t trust myself to. Even what I’d already revealed, I thought, would be too much. But contrary to my expectations, Vincent merely seemed weary and sad.

“I am a wartime king leading my people through dark times,” he said. “And Jesmine is a general who knows how to do whatever it takes to protect her kingdom. And sometimes those tasks require unpleasant actions. I won’t deny that.” He extended his hand to me again, a weak, soft smile at his lips. “But tonight I’m just a father who, twelve hours ago, was certain he’d just watched his daughter die. So please, little serpent. Indulge me. Let me be that man for just a few minutes.”

I swallowed, hesitating.

Living this life had required me to learn how to be many contradictory things at once. It forced me to divvy my mind up into many little rooms, each containing a different part of myself. Now, the beast of my anger calmed enough for me to lock it away safely within its cage. It was not gone. It was not satisfied. But it was restrained.

“I don’t know how to dance,” I said, at last.

“That’s fine. We can pretend I’m a better father, and that I taught you such things like I was supposed to.”

I softened.

Fuck it.

I took his hand, and Vincent led me to the dance floor. We stayed off to the side—far away from the borderline-orgy that was happening in the center of the room, which would have been a very awkward place to be with my father.

“You taught me more useful things than dancing, at least,” I said.

He spun me into position. Maybe I didn’t know how to dance, but I did know how to move, and I certainly knew how to follow his lead. All of this resulted in far less awkward stumbling than I would have expected.

“And you learned them well,” he said. “That and more, if what I saw last night was any indication.”

The pride in his voice lit an echoing flicker of warmth in my chest. Despite myself, my cheeks tightened.

It still felt like a fever dream. I wasn’t completely sure what I had done, or how I had done it. But I knew one thing: I had felt powerful, truly powerful, for the first time in my entire life.

Vincent laughed softly. “Don’t hide that pride. It is well deserved.”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” I admitted.

Did he know? Did he suspect I was capable of that kind of power?

“Never be ashamed of exceeding expectations,” he said. “Even mine.”

I had never even considered that it was possible to do such a thing. Vincent’s expectations were the mold I was poured into—there was nowhere for me to go, nothing for me to be, but what he made me. I understood young that the harsh words and the strong hands were necessary. He was trying to keep me safe, and one mistake would be all it took to destroy my fragile mortal life.

Vincent would never apologize to me for what he had done to Raihn. Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe, under his circumstances, he didn’t do anything wrong.

But tonight, he would pretend it hadn’t happened. And maybe, for tonight, I could keep following his lead, just as I had for the last fifteen years.

Yet, I couldn’t help but prod. Just a little.

“The Rishan?” I asked, very casually. “Anything new?”

“Always. I’ll be traveling again soon, gone for a few weeks. But let’s not talk about such dark things. For now, I’m here.”

He swept me around the dance floor, and I was reminded suddenly and vividly of one time when I was still small enough for him to carry me in one arm and he showed me what it was like to fly—just a little, just from the balcony to the ground. One time and never, ever again.