Perhaps the vampire and I were more alike than I’d realized.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

The Western Vampire Kingdom looked no different from the Witch Kingdom. We reached it in another day, though I didn’t realize it was so close until the terrain turned from grass to rock as we approached the mountain range.

I’d expected grand, dark spires, a sprawling palace like in the Witch Kingdom capital, vampires patrolling the grounds, with pointed fangs and questions for intruders. At least some other foreboding signs that we had reached what I’d been raised to believe was the seat of evil in Eurobis.

The entrance to Damerel was little more than a cave. Raphael tied Alphonse to a tree at the base of the mountain.

“We can’t leave him,” I protested. Not just because it was foolish to leave a perfectly good horse behind. I’d grown attached to the horse on our journey, and I’d need him when I departed in a few days.

“I’ll send someone to collect him,” Raphael assured me with confidence that would’ve convinced me he was lying if not for the fact he’d just told me vampires couldn’t lie. For the first time, I considered perhaps Raphael wasn’t some common vampire, but perhaps one of the aristocrats he’d mentioned.

Then again, he’d been captured and sent to Greymere. No one had come for him, nor had he reached out to anyone who might be looking for him. I dismissed the thought. He must have meant a friend. Though it was harder to imagine him having friends than him being an aristocrat.

Before we entered, I cast the anti-thrall card I’d bargained for weeks ago. Raphael rolled his eyes.

“You won’t need that,” he said with a scoff.

“You can’t be too careful.” Just because his weak thrall didn’t work on me didn’t mean I wouldn’t be in danger from others. I needed every protection possible, even if I would be gone in a few days.

He seemed to debate a retort but thought better of it. Given all his reassurances I’d be safe here for a few days, I’d almost expected more of a protest.

I clutched the modified copper cuffs in my skirt as we moved in, taking mental inventory of the precious few cards I had in my deck. There weren’t many, and hardly any would be useful against a vampire. I had the cursed copper shackles, but given they were broken, and vampires were both faster and stronger, they were as good as shiny paperweights. Defenseless. I loathed the feeling. I swallowed down my worries as the darkness engulfed us.

The stone became smoother the deeper we went. I wasn’t sure if I should expect the oppressive uniform stone of Greymere or the mystical marks from the Temple of Anagenni, but what I found was neither.

In what felt like a few short steps, the cave walls turned into elegant, plastered designs. Raphael moved with purpose, and I hurried after him. In the span of no more than an hour, we were in halls that rivaled those in Ulryne. No—though my memories were fogged by time, they were quite possibly even finer. Rich reds and purples, ornamented with gold designs.

For a moment, I could almost imagine the place was familiar.

Until we reached the first vampire.

Somehow, I’d gotten used to the sight of red eyes on Raphael’s face. I’d let him place his fangs on me. Touched him and let him touch me. Felt his unbeating heart at my back as we rode for hundreds of miles.

But if I’d thought that acceptance would carry over to any other vampire, it was quickly erased.

In a few frantic heartbeats, several things happened at once.

The vampire, dressed like a nobleman, bowed at the hips towards us—towards Raphael. His crimson gaze slid to me, and all at once I was back there, covered in blood, blood, blood. I pawed at my pocket for the copper cuffs, trying to change my helpless nature. I only succeeded in scratching myself on a rough edge.

The distant awareness of pain was nothing compared to how my body reacted as the stranger’s nostrils flared at the scent of my blood. He moved fast, imperceptibly fast to my human eyes, as he surged towards me.

I screamed.

And then the vampire was flying across the hallway. The perfectly ornamented red-and-purple walls caved in as the vampire collided.

Raphael lunged after the vampire, baring his teeth like a wild animal. He lifted the vampire with a single hand.

“Mine,” he snarled.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

Raphael released the vampire, letting his body crumple to the ground. The vampire was still alive. He’d attack Raphael. Gods, Raphael could get hurt. I was rooted in my spot, unable to slow my heart enough to think past the roaring in my head that bleated Danger, danger, danger!

But the vampire didn’t rise to attack Raphael. He prostrated himself, bracing his hands on the ground with his bowed head.

“You raised those hands at her,” Raphael snarled. His voice… I’d heard it like that only in the echoes of my nightmares of the Monastery initiation. “You reached for what was mine with those hands.”

“My king! I apologize. I did not realize she was yours. The scent of her blood overtook me. I forgot myself.”

My king, the vampire had called him.

I trembled at the word. King.

Enemy.

“See that you never do so again.” Raphael’s voice was colder than I’d ever heard it. “And let this serve as a reminder.”

He gripped the vampire’s wrists from the floor, and in one sickening movement Raphael ripped the vampire’s hands off.

The vampire howled. Raphael flung the dismembered hands down the hall, a trail of red, red, red blood spraying over the walls.

“Should you or anyone else lay a hand on what’s mine, let your lives be forfeit. You live only as a warning to them.”

The vampire on the floor babbled his agreement, but Raphael was already facing me once more. I tore my gaze from the sobbing vampire to face him. His gaze was still icy, utterly opposite to how he’d been the night before. He grabbed my wounded wrist and lifted it high. I stared up in confusion, then gasped as he lifted my palm to his lips and gave it a lick.

But he wasn’t looking at me. Around us, a crowd had gathered. He removed his mouth, but held my arm high, as though I were some trophy.

King.

“This woman is mine. No one is to touch her.” He addressed them easily, like it was his birthright. “To do so is to forfeit your right to a quick and easy death.”

No. It couldn’t be. The way he’d been beaten, captured… there was no way I’d been traveling for weeks with the king of vampires. My mind scrambled for any other explanation, grasping at vapors.

But the crowd all dipped to a knee in deference.

When they rose, all I could see was the sea of red. We were surrounded on both sides, hungry eyes looking at me, bright, wanting. Oh gods. My heart was a frantic drum beating in alarm faster and faster. The sharp inhale of my breaths turned into me choking. I couldn’t get the air out fast enough before I sucked more in. My gaze swung wildly from eyes to eyes to eyes. I tried to shut mine, but they were still there, a vision of red, red, red all around me.

My knees buckled. Someone grabbed my arms before I fell. Raphael. Concern was etched on that now familiar face.

But all I saw were the red eyes.

The blood.

I fainted.

When I came to, all the vampires were gone.

All except Raphael. He stood across the room, arms folded. He’d changed, bathed. His white hair was slicked back, his face freshly shaven. He’d traded the stolen cloak and tunic for clothing befitting of royalty.