Maybe it was because my advances had been rejected only last night, and my feelings were still sore, but this fear found fertile soil. I hated this Auré already, sight unseen.

Let’s not act like a silly, melodramatic little girl, I told myself, caressing the poem. There was no reason yet to hate a woman I’d never met.

Bane had reasons for what he did. This vampire had nothing to do with it. I wouldn’t allow myself to behave like a jealous, angry harpy for no reason.

But sometimes I wished Wyn would lie to me, keep me in the dark, if only for my peace of mind. I didn’t need to know that this woman might have been his lover if life had taken a different path.

So… the reasons you celebrate this holiday? I wrote instead. It has a different meaning to you?

“Yes. Your kind celebrates Bloodrain to rejoice in our deaths—the rain of blood that showered upon the stones when humans rose up against their masters.” Wyn looked up as the servants began working on the next drapery. “All very well and good, the ancestors know we can’t say Liliach and her kin didn’t deserve it, but it has roots in a much deeper tradition. Humans took that tradition and warped it, as victors will do. For the rest of us, Bloodrain is not only a reflection on the folly of that era, but a celebration of Mother Blood giving us life. It is a time of gratitude for our rebirths, our very existence.”

I nodded, following her as she strode across the wide room. A team of several servants were unrolling crimson carpets; Wyn directed them via diagrams she’d drawn.

“Now,” she said, turning back to me when they’d been dispatched. “It’s a very simple holiday at heart. We’re not going to be building fires and roasting those primitive effigies to eat like savages. There will be a ball, of course, but you must know that the blood will be flowing here. Those humans who choose to slake us will be doing so openly. Can you handle that?”

I didn’t have to think before nodding. Of course I could. Bane had pierced my throat, and now I understood—it was an ecstatic experience, incomparable to any other physical sensation.

“Good. I thought so, now that you and Bane have settled your differences.”

I smiled humorlessly behind her back as she walked; not all of them were settled.

I followed her as she made preparations, feeling a bit like a pointless third wheel; she had the decorations and hospitality planned to within an inch of its life. No guest would leave unhappy.

But as she moved about, darting from task to task with the single-minded purpose of a honeybee, she told me of the past Bloodrain celebrations, including the masque they held in their first year of rule that had ended with a warg crashing through the stained-glass window, only to be decapitated by Bane with a single blow.

“But that was when we were still new to Ravenscry, the legions still untrained, and the Rift scouts not quite so well-prepared.” She sniffed as she looked over massive vases, brimming with roses. “It will be a lovely time, Cirrien. I may even have that horrendous wedding dress the Sisters put you in re-tailored for the occasion. We’re opposites in that regard—we wear white for weddings, and red for Bloodrain.”

You had it thrown in a furnace, I wrote.

“Oh. The waste of it—now I have to commission another gown. What was I thinking?” she asked, looking revolted at herself.

Visca spoke from behind us, sounding amused. “You were probably hungry and stressed, love. Also, it stank of rowan, so really it wasn’t that great a loss.”

We both turned to look at the keep commander, incongruous in her leather-and-iron armor in the middle of the decadent ballroom, but it was the woman behind her that caught the eye.

With the sensation of my stomach plummeting to somewhere around my toes, I recognized Auré fel Seren on sight, because… who else could she possibly be?

The vampire was all curves, her face almost too beautiful to look at directly. She wore violet silk that hugged the smooth, full lines of her body, and a torrent of deep chestnut waves poured down her back. Eyes the exact shade of spring columbines gazed back at me evenly, her perfect lips stretched in a smile.

“Cirrien lai Darran, Lady of the Rift, bride of the Skinner of Wolves,” Visca said cheerily, gesturing at me.

Auré bowed as Visca made her introduction to me, not that I needed it. The vampire was still smiling as she rose upright, graceful as a willow tree.

I swallowed the sick feeling in my throat as I signed to her. Welcome, my lady.

It’s the greatest pleasure to finally meet you, she signed back, and I was torn between delight and dismay.

I’d always felt at peace with myself, never craving any more beauty, grace, or talent than what I’d been born with, but Auré made me feel like I’d been pulled from a cesspit in Argent and dragged backwards through every hedge in Veladar.

“You two should get along, right?” Visca asked, slipping an arm around Wyn’s waist and avoiding flailing hands full of lists as she planted a kiss on her cheek. “Bane is coming this way, no need to fear, love.”

“Any day now,” Wyn snapped, but the tension in her shoulders melted away under Visca’s touch.

I was left staring back at Auré, whose smile grew decidedly cooler once we were no longer being stared at by the bloodwitch and commander.

“Have my people made you welcome?” she asked, with the slightest emphasis on ‘my’—staking her claim, making it clear that I was the outsider here, while she belonged.

Like I was their own, I said, keeping my smile in place with some effort. It was clear to me that I was outmatched. I didn’t have the mind or the training for court double-speak, the polite lies the nobles told each other, compliments while stabbing each other in the back.

“Lovely,” she said, those violet eyes full of cold calculation. “And Lord Bane? How goes it between the two of you? Has he drunk from you yet and upheld the vows?”

How very forward of you to ask. I kept my movements sharp and abrupt, denoting my tone. It was, in fact, a relief to speak sharply to someone and have no aspect of my speech lost on them. I would invite you into my bedroom to take a look for yourself, but I’m not fond of voyeurs or those who can’t mind their own business.

Auré tipped her head to the side, that icy appraisal giving way to something else, but the tap of claws on marble met my ears.

Thank the Light, he’d save me from this vampire and her prying questions.

But her chilly demeanor fell away instantly, replaced with warmth and affection as she turned to face Bane. Her columbine eyes glittered as she took him in. “Lord Bane the Lifegiver. What a relief to see you well.”

There was none of the horror of him I saw in human faces, only admiration and pride. The vampires really did see him as a hero.

“You as well, Lady Auré. It’s been a long time since your last visit.” He bowed to her, all noble courtesy.

“I have a real treat for you,” Auré said, smiling up at him. “Lord Wroth is coming, as well. He wishes to speak with you.”

Wyn whirled around, her eyes wide. “What?” Visca sighed as her wife began scrambling through the stack of lists. “Why wasn’t I informed of this? Get the steward over here, we need to reassess the seating arrangements.”

But I couldn’t bring myself to care about Wyn’s carefully-laid plans. My stomach felt like it was trying to tie itself into a knot now, especially when Auré offered her hand to Bane, and he bowed over it, his lips only inches from her skin.

It was the first real jealousy I’d ever experienced, and I loathed it. She was beautiful, and courtly in a way I wasn’t, and most of all, she was a vampire. His kind. She would understand him in ways I couldn’t.

I rather thought I wanted to go off and privately be sick, which was ludicrous, because… I had nothing to fear, right?