On instinct, my hands went to my hips. Of course, I had no blades.

Raihn didn’t say another word as he led me down the hall, then down a set of stairs and into the next wing, where he opened a door at the end of the corridor.

It was a small space, maybe once a study or sitting room. It was hard to tell, because like most of the rooms in this castle, it had been stripped bare, the bookshelves now empty and not yet repopulated. A single round table sat at its center.

Septimus was there already, not bothering to rise when we entered. Vale stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching me the way a falcon eyed prey, and Cairis rose from his chair when the door opened.

Cairis smiled at me and pulled out one of the empty chairs across from Septimus. “Sit.”

Septimus gave me a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes as I obeyed.

Vale sat beside Cairis, but Raihn remained standing—behind me, and only a couple of feet from my chair, so I could feel his presence but not see him. It made me wildly uncomfortable.

Everyone was staring at me. I was used to being stared at, but not like this—like I was an object of curiosity.

Septimus placed something at the center of the table. A little cluster of shards of glass, stacked on top of each other, silver sigils etched into its surface.

Shit.

The device I’d found in Vincent’s study.

“This probably looks familiar to you,” Septimus said.

I tried very hard not to react.

I didn’t speak, teeth gritted against the sudden certainty that I was about to be tortured. This was why Raihn had kept me alive.

Behind me, his voice shivered down my spine.

“I don’t think we need to ask stupid questions that we all know the answers to, right?” His voice was low, rough. Teasing, with a dark edge. “Oraya doesn’t like games.”

Septimus gave a weak shrug. “Fair. It’s not a question, then, Highness. You do recognize this device. You recognize it because you used it.”

Give them nothing, Vincent said.

I kept a careful grip on my nerves, my heartbeat. I was locked in a room with monsters. Fear is a collection of physical responses.

I could practically feel Raihn breathing behind me. I wished he would stand somewhere else.

“You don’t even know what this is, do you?” Septimus said. “This mirror, my Queen, was created specifically for King Vincent. Your father.”

I wondered if hearing those words—even hearing Vincent’s name—would ever stop aching.

“It’s a communication device, and a very useful one, as it can be used to look in on certain individuals no matter where they are in Obitraes—perhaps even anywhere in the world, even if you don’t know their location. An excellent way to keep discreet communication in times of war. Very powerful. Rare. Some poor sorcerer toiled over this for a long time.” Amber-threaded, silver eyes crinkled with that perpetual charming smirk. “Vincent likely gave his blood to make this thing.”

“And?” I said, coldly.

“And,” Septimus said, “you were able to use it.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

His laugh was lower now, colder.

“We don’t need to pretend.”

And there was just something about the way he said it…

Something about the snide little tone to his voice that made me think of the two open locks to my room.

Vincent’s study, the only open door in the entire wing.

And this device, sitting right there, ready to be found.

Would Vincent ever have left such a valuable object out on his desk? Even in the throes of warfare? Especially in the throes of warfare?

Watch that face of yours, Vincent whispered to me, but it was too late. The sparkle of satisfaction in Septimus’s eyes said he saw my realization.

“Every bet I’ve placed on you has been a winning one, dove,” he said. “Over and over again.”

Raihn abruptly stepped out from behind me, crossing the table to stand across from me. His hands clasped behind his back, his face hard despite the smile at his lips—a strangely joyless expression.

“You’re lucky, princess,” he said. “It turns out, you’re not just a traitor. You’re also useful.”

I’d been manipulated. Was Raihn a part of that, then? Using my grief and my captivity against me? Of course he was. After everything, that shouldn’t have been surprising. It certainly shouldn’t have hurt.

“Most offspring aren’t able to use blooded instruments of their parents, or vice versa,” Septimus said. He ran his fingertip back and forth along the glass shard, spreading black blood along its edge. Unlike when I had done the same, the device didn’t react at all.

I watched it with my jaw set, far too transfixed. I wanted to take his hand off for rubbing his tainted Bloodborn blood on my father’s property.

“The fact that you were able to actually use this, and communicate information to your general… that’s unusual and impressive,” he went on. “Perhaps it’s because of your Heir Mark. Who can truly understand the magic of the gods?”

I didn’t know why it made me so uncomfortable to hear this. To think about all the connections I still had to Vincent—the connections that he had told me my entire life didn’t exist. Part of me wanted to cling to whatever I had left of him, wear it as a badge of pride.

Another part of me hated him for it.

I shut those complicated thoughts away. “So you plan to what, cut me open and start dripping my blood all over Vincent’s possessions? As if I haven’t had vampires lusting after my blood my entire life. Creative.”

Septimus chuckled, the way one would laugh at the antics of a small child.

“Not all of Vincent’s possessions. Just some of them.”

“Your father had a lot of secrets,” Raihn said quietly, in a tone that meant so much more than the words alone.

My biting response died on my tongue, because even I couldn’t argue with the ugly truth of that. Too many secrets.

Then Septimus said something that I truly—down to my bones—was not expecting.

“You’re familiar, I assume, with the story of Alarus and Nyaxia?”

I—what?

“Of course I’m familiar,” I said. “Is there a soul in Obitraes who isn’t?”

What the fuck could that possibly have to do with anything?

“I don’t like to judge,” Septimus said, lifting one shoulder. “So you must know, then, that Alarus is the only major god ever to have been killed.”

“Get to the point, Septimus,” Raihn grumbled. But even as he scolded Septimus, he was watching me.

Septimus raised his hands, in a lazy fair enough.

“We’re vampires. We know death better than any other. And we all know that any being that dies leaves something behind. Bones. Blood. Magic. Offspring.” Septimus gave me a knowing half smile. “And that goes for gods, too. As what we leave behind holds some of our power, so, too, do a god’s remains.”

Despite myself, my curiosity was getting the better of me, just because what he was saying was so… bizarre. “You’re talking about finding Alarus’s… corpse?”

“I think Alarus is much more than a corpse by now. I think his remains, whatever they are, have spread throughout Obitraes.”

“What makes you think so?”

He smiled. “I found some. In the House of Blood.”

I didn’t even have words. My lips parted and nothing came out.

“Teeth,” he added, answering the question I was too shocked to ask. “Just a few.”

Teeth?

I choked out, “And what the fuck does one do with the teeth of the God of Death?”

“Not much, perhaps. But we could do a lot with his blood.”

“His blood.”

This was ridiculous.

“Yes,” Septimus said simply. “I suspect that some of it remains in the House of Night, and that it could be very, very useful if found. And I suspect your dear old father knew that, too.” He leaned across the table, long fingers intertwined, smirk slowly spreading into a grin. “I think he knew it, and he harnessed it, and he hid it. And now you get to find it for us.”