Raphael shrugged. “Then you should have found us at luncheon.”

The witch blew out an exasperated breath. “You know that’s not how it works. I saw us here.”

I at once understood why Amalthea, a witch, was in the Vampire Kingdom.

Amalthea wasn’t just a witch.

She was an oracle.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Then you know what we’re about to do, and you still came dressed like this?” Raphael sounded exasperated.

That in itself was about as shocking as being in the presence of an oracle. Raphael was never anything as mundane as exasperated.

“I accounted for that. I weighed my desire to do your bidding exactly with my desire to make an impression, and the latter won.”

Amalthea was a voluptuous woman, elegantly dressed in large swaths of flowing fabric. Unlike my practical wool, hers were layers and layers of gauze, intricately embroidered in varying patterns. Her hair was silver, with shocks of white and blue lowlights that matched her gray eyes. Or gray eye, rather. A decorated glass orb sat in the left socket, moving with the right one as she appraised me in turn. Her face was made of circles, with round lips, full cheeks, and puffy eyes, which gave her a youthful appearance. Her skin had the warm tones under it that the vampires lacked.

Yet she was as unnatural as the vampires. A witch who could see in the future.

Raphael had brought up the Witch Kingdom’s treatment of seers at Apante. Was she the reason?

“So you believe you can undermine my plans.”

I would have quaked if Raphael had spoken that way to me, with icy accusation. Amalthea gave the vampire king a dismissive wave. “Relax, Your Majesty. I thought of that.”

On unspoken cue, the doors behind us opened once more. My spine stiffened at once. If Amalthea was the consummate witch, the male who stepped in was utterly vampiric. His skin was the color of the running moon, his hair a shade lighter and slicked back before tying off at the nape. He wore a uniform of some kind, black with a purple emblem on the shoulder. While Amalthea was close to my height, this vampire was nearly as tall as Raphael, and more muscular.

He bowed to Raphael immediately.

“My king, I understand you have need of me.”

“Iademos,” Raphael acknowledged. “I’m afraid once again our witch has decided she knew better and brought you here. I didn’t yet want vampires around—” He cut off with a glance at me and turned to Amalthea. “It’s unwise to go against my wishes, Oracle.”

Though he faced Amalthea, I didn’t take my eyes off the vampire in the room. My fingers shook slightly, longing for the comfort of the copper cuffs I’d left in the bathing suite. The vampire spared me the barest glance before focusing on Amalthea, annoyance obvious on his features. But restrained annoyance, like when a friend has played a joke, rather than vampire annoyance where they contemplate tearing you limb from limb.

I tried to steady my heart and failed.

“Even when you are wrong? Surely our king hasn’t changed that much on this journey.” The witch’s voice was lilting, like she was singing instead of insulting her king. “She will be living among vampires. She cannot be cloistered away. You trust Demos above all others, so who better than your right hand to join us? He’s much better with a blade than I am, in any case.”

“Fine,” Raphael bit off. “I leave her in both of your care.” An ominous current ran between the words.

Iademos nodded gravely. Though I wasn’t facing Amalthea, I suspected her response was less deferential.

“You’re leaving?” I didn’t mean for my words to come out as a whisper. Panic spidered over my skin, constricting my chest. He was leaving me with another vampire?

Raphael faced me. “I have matters to attend to. Despite her many faults, Amalthea is correct. I trust Iademos above any other in this mountain, or all of Eurobis. I planned to hold off the introduction, but since Amalthea has deemed herself an incompetent teacher”—an indignant huff from the seer—“they will both be with you when I am not.” He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a short scabbard. “Learn this weapon. You will not need it here, but it will give you comfort to have and know how to use it, given your future plans.”

My plans to leave, once I finished translating. I took the blade and pulled it from its oiled sheath, testing the weight in my hand. It wasn’t gold, but the color was similar. Bronze? Raphael nodded once with satisfaction and left without further word.

I swallowed.

What now?

Amalthea approached me without any of the hesitation that constantly rattled inside me.

“In His Majesty’s hurry to play nursemaid, he forgot all his manners.” She ignored a pointed cough from Iademos. “My name is Amalthea, court seer to the Vampire Kingdom of the West and resident know-it-all. Or if not all, at least the interesting parts. That disapproving fanged menace is Iademos, right hand to the Vampire King of the West and general of Damerel’s army.”

She looked at me expectantly. Right. This is the part where I introduce myself. “I’m Samara. No fancy titles, I’m afraid. Just a stray Raphael picked up.”

Amalthea laughed, and Iademos’s lip curled into something that might have been a repressed smile.

“Oh, you’re much more than that. You’re the first human Raphael’s ever claimed as his Chosen.”

I blinked. “What?”

Iademos cleared his throat. “What Amalthea means is you’re our king’s guest. That in itself grants you status.”

“Like his right hand and an illegal witch as babysitters?”

“Illegal witch?” Amalthea repeated, tone thunderous.

I looked down, embarrassed. That was the term I’d always heard used to refer to seers, and it had slipped out before I’d thought through the implications.

“There’s no such thing as illegal magic, any more than there are illegal clouds. Magic chooses its form, and we obey. Only a fool attempts to restrict the existence of kinds of magic. There will always be a reckoning for such hubris.” The words were almost a growl by the time Amalthea finished speaking.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean—that was rude of me.”

Amalthea’s expression softened at once, the thunderstorm gone as quickly as it had come. “I’ll bear no grudge, Samara. I’ve had worse said about me and done to me.” She lifted a hand to her face, where her glass eye looked back at me. “You’d be wise to remember what I’ve said.”

I nodded. “Can I ask how you came to be here?”

“Of course. And because I like you, I’ll even answer. Here, come and sit.”

“The king told us—rather told you—to train her,” Iademos chastised.

Amalthea waved him away. Where the vampire guard frightened me and was clearly not one to be trifled with, Amalthea treated him like an annoying sibling. “Learning about her new home is important training for Samara. There’ll be plenty enough time for you to show off all your little drills later. Not that there’s much to say—stick them with the sharp end. Nothing to it.”

Iademos ground his jaw. I kept my eyes on him even as Amalthea dragged me over to a bench.

“Won’t you get us refreshments?” she asked saccharinely.

“That’s not my—fine.” He huffed and left the room.

Amalthea flashed me a victorious smile.

“Is it wise to needle him like that?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Oh, Demos likes it. He has the rest of the castle too well-trained. A person can only take so much bowing and scraping before they want to fling themselves off a cliff. I keep him sane.”

I had the distinct impression Amalthea was doing her best to drive the guard insane. Still, I was glad to have a reprieve. Even if Raphael trusted him, it was impossible to relax around a vampire. An oracle was difficult enough.