He grinned. “That’s better. Can’t fight off enemies if your tail is tucked betwixt your legs.”

I didn’t believe it was possible for me to tolerate a vampire besides Raphael, but Iademos almost made me question that belief. He was relaxed, and careful to give me space. He wasn’t treating me like I was prey or overly delicate.

He took a practice dagger for himself and flipped it in his hands, waiting for me to settle my grip on the training stick he’d thrown my way.

“A dagger’s not a great weapon if you’re in a head-on confrontation. It doesn’t have the reach of a sword, but it also doesn’t require the muscles or years of training.” That explained why Raphael had picked it for me. From the looks of the larger practice swords, I’d struggle to lift one, let alone defend myself with it. “What’s good is that you can use it to maneuver when your opponent is close and surprise them. With your size and sex, you’ll be underestimated in just about any fight—which is the male’s fault,” he emphasized after Amalthea made an annoyed sound, “not yours.”

I wasn’t offended by blunt lessons. I’d learned at a young age just how much of a liability being a girl could be, and I’d learned since then that I would use any tool available to me to survive.

“We’ll make sure to use it to your advantage,” he continued. “Now, I’m going to show you the basics.”

So the general did. From a distance. He demonstrated and ran me through several drills. He always stayed within my line of sight, avoiding sudden movements. I was grateful for that, even if I likely would have benefited from more corrections.

The hours passed. A thin sheen of sweat coated my forehead, my body exhausted from the repetitive movements, but I was determined to practice without complaint. I’d spent a lifetime wishing for protection in different forms—in magic, in my mother, in the Monastery—and I was tired of it. For the past weeks, I’d relied on a vampire to keep me safe. And Raphael had, but Raphael wouldn’t always be there, and more than that, I didn’t want to need his protection. In a few weeks or months, however long it took to translate the grimoire, I’d be setting off into an unknown territory. I needed to stop looking outwardly and start building my own defenses. So even though my shoulder was on fire, my wrist aching from the abrupt use, I continued.

It was Amalthea who finally said it was enough.

“I can keep going,” I said quickly. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Iademos shook his head. “As much as I hate to say it, Thea is right. Overdo it and you won’t be able to move your arms tomorrow.”

I was unprepared for the disappointment that pierced me. Even though they had a point, it felt like a failure.

“Each day, Amalthea or I will work with you on building strength. A dagger may not require the strength of a broadsword, but you still need some muscle to pierce the skin.” He ran his gaze up and down, but there was nothing to it beyond a blunt appraisal.

“We’ll have you ready to carve the hearts of vampires out in no time,” Amalthea assured me, the bloodthirsty promise leaving her lips with a smile. “But you and I have another trial ahead of us.”

I put the practice dagger back on the stand. “We do?”

“We do,” she confirmed. “We have a ball to get ready for.”

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Chapter Thirty

Iademos took his leave while Amalthea stood and dusted off her immaculate skirts.

“What ball?” Vampires have balls?

She read my expression with ease. “Courts always have balls, do they not? Our king has been gone for weeks with no word. It’s only right to have one to commemorate his return.”

“But… I don’t need to go to that.” I didn’t need to be around vampires any more than absolutely necessary. A ball was not, by any measure, necessary.

“Raphael claimed you. It’s only right you make an appearance. Besides, people are curious about you.”

Just what I needed: vampires interested in me.

“And you must be curious about them as well.”

“I’m really not,” I insisted. I knew everything I needed to: They were dangerous predators, and voids like me were their ideal prey. As for the ball itself, well, I’d never been to one, though I’d watched from the corner of the room as my mother prepared to attend, layering disguise magic on top until her appearance transformed, making her unrecognizable—and in the eyes of a child, just a little scary.

My heart ached, in that fleeting moment, to be a child again and watching her. When the scariest thing was seeing her lips turn from pink to purple, her lashes long enough to graze her magically sharpened cheekbones when she batted her eyes.

She shrugged. “Well, too bad. You’re going.”

“Why?” I demanded, collecting my dagger from the bench.

“Because I’m not missing the ball, and Raphael left you in my care. Do you really want to sit by yourself in a room with a chair barricading the door shut because you’re terrified to be alone in the Vampire Kingdom?”

I glared. That was exactly what I intended, even if I’d come to see just how outmatched I was against vampire strength. “That’s a low blow.”

“Low blows work,” Amalthea countered. “Now, we’ve barely enough time to get ready, so let’s go.”

“How long?” I asked, alarmed.

“Less than three hours.”

Amalthea navigated the twisting hallways of Damerel with ease. I froze at the first pair of vampires we crossed paths with, but the witch just tugged on my arm to keep me moving while the vampires bowed their heads in respect—at us. Humans.

“Here we are.”

I didn’t recognize the hall where Amalthea’s rooms were, but that didn’t say much. Despite the fact we were under a mountain, the hallways were every bit the labyrinth as the castle in Ulryne.

“These are your chambers?”

“They are,” she replied, tossing the doors wide.

To say Amalthea’s room was chaotic was to greatly understate the level of disarray. Dresses hung off every elevated surface, from the changing screen to the wingback chairs by the fire to the low table in the middle of the room. The floor was a viper’s nest of shoes of every description, from practical, fur-lined boots I’d have killed to have in the prison to heels that rivaled the dagger I was anxiously clutching. That was not to say Amalthea used her room as one big closet. It was also part library, with books scattered throughout, left open to specific pages, and garden, with the remaining floor space eaten up by luscious purple and blue flowers that matched her hair.

“Don’t mind the mess,” she chirped, taking a big step over a particularly dangerous mountain of flats.

I thought of my mother’s immaculate chambers, which never had so much as a stocking out to be gawked at. “No problem.”

She pointed off to the side. “There’s a bathing room over there. You can wash up and then we’ll have some fun. Here, take this. It’s clean.”

She picked a ball of fabric from her dresser, and I unfurled it. A satin robe. Despite the wrinkled state, it actually seemed to have been laundered.

“Thanks.”

I ducked into the bathroom and stifled a laugh when I saw the shelving. It seemed I wasn’t the only one with a penchant for perfumes. Amalthea had dozens of half-empty bottles, some stacked on top of each other to fit. This time, I abstained, washing my body quickly before returning to Amalthea.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got. Sit,” she instructed.

In my time freshening up, she’d unearthed both a stool and vanity that I hadn’t noticed. Obediently, I sat. Iademos may have been the general, but Amalthea certainly liked to give orders.

“I just love your hair,” she mused, running her fingers through it. “I’m going to have fun with you, Sam.”