I swallowed and put a half step of distance between us. He was right. Vampires were a world apart.

A servant returned with a crystal glass of icy water on a tray, a boon in the heat of the crowd. It wasn’t the same servant, but he looked familiar. Not from Damerel, though. I hadn’t learned any faces here. I tried to place him while he extended a tray towards me.

“For you, Lady Samara,” he said with a respectful half bow. His gaze was on the floor.

For a moment I just stared. Was my mind playing tricks on me? The face I imagined I hadn’t seen for many years, and only in shadows.

Raphael took the glass and handed it to me when I made no move to take it.

“Thank you,” I said, as the human servant retreated. A mistake. You mistook that other servant for another. I ignored Raphael’s curious look and tried to return to the subject. “Amalthea doesn’t bother. Trying to look more like a vampire, I mean.”

“The fates themselves could not convince Amalthea to do anything she didn’t want to.”

“I’ve known her only a short time, and I find that to be a fair assessment,” I agreed.

We spoke a little more but were eventually interrupted. More sycophants, much like Lazarus. Honeyed words, talks of politics and policies mixed in with cloying praise for Raphael: his sense of justice, his dedication to the kingdom, his wit, his majestic presence. Some might bear a grain of truth, but I suspected the same words would have been applied to a lobotomized rooster if it wore the crown. Some things didn’t change.

I occupied my mind by studying the celebrants of the room, both those who approached and anyone else in my line of sight. With each one, I made it a game to figure out if they were vampire or human. Most were vampires, as Raphael said. As I practiced, I got better at picking out the humans from the bunch. The clothing was the same style… but seldom quite as grand. The difference between a civil servant and a titled inheritor. They lacked the utter stillness the vampires were capable of, the grace that came when you moved with no excessive flourishes. There were differences in the red eyes, but while the vampires seemed to nearly glow as they sipped the blood mead, the humans were always lackluster.

Disdain swept through me. How quickly they begged to be rid of their humanity. Not just that, their individuality. I loathed the part of me that understood. Was it so different from the court of the Witch King, where courtiers constantly competed to dress in the latest fashion, or raced to tell the king the latest gossip? Was I any better, even if I was only here temporarily?

Many had chosen this. They had given up the second-class life of a mortal without magic in an enchanted kingdom to try to rise another way. I wanted to believe that made me different. But my choices had led me here too. If it was a matter of survival, would I disguise myself as a vampire? I couldn’t deny it. I’d let one feed on me, claim me.

I would never let one turn me. That difference would have to be enough.

A nasally voice caught my attention.

“And will she be joining us for the Tri-Lunar Eclipse Ceremony?” a female noble asked. Vampire. Definitely vampire. Her hair was up, her bodice cut low. She angled her neck as if beckoning. If ever there was someone inviting a bite, it was this female. Did vampires even bite other vampires? What was the point?

“Perhaps,” Raphael said noncommittally.

They must mean me. I edged closer to Raphael. I didn’t feel particularly threatened, but I didn’t care for the hungry look in her eyes. Though it wasn’t quite directed at me.

“Oh, it’ll be so exciting,” her companion added, punctuating her words with a demure flap of her fan. Her neck was covered in a high lace collar. “It’ll be my first one.”

“You never forget your first,” the first vampire said with a wink. “Mine was just barely three hundred years ago, and I’ve been waiting for the next one since.”

What exactly was the Tri-Lunar Eclipse Ceremony?

The conversation dripped in cultural innuendos I lacked context for. The focus drifted back to politics, and eventually, the two females were replaced by others, all attempting to curry favor with the returned king. There was no more time for Raphael and me to talk, and I found I missed the comfort that small talk had offered.

At least, I could have used the distraction. Without it, my mind kept returning to the human servant from before, unable to relax.

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Chapter Thirty-Two

Someone jiggled the doorknob of my room the next morning. Intruder. My body stiffened at the thought. Someone is trying to get in.

“Samara?”

Thea. It was only Amalthea. I slid the Black Grimoire off my lap and shut the heavy tome, trailing my fingers over it.

“Coming!” I called through the heavy wooden door. I untucked the chair from the handle and slid away the desk I’d set to reinforce it. Finally, I twisted the key and unlocked the door.

Amalthea cast a curious glance at the pile of furniture as she stepped inside. “Redecorating?” she asked lightly.

I tried to smile. She didn’t give me reassurances I wouldn’t believe, and I was thankful.

“I didn’t mean to barge in on you, but I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast with me before training.”

“That would be nice.” I meant to sound warm and sincere, mirroring the witch’s tone, but instead I sounded stupefied. I’d slept fitfully after the ball and finally gave up on sleep sometime in the early hours. It hadn’t occurred to me anyone would offer to have breakfast with me. “I got distracted trying to read that.” I pointed to the grimoire.

Amalthea’s gaze followed my gesture. Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re reading that book?”

“Trying,” I grumbled. The truth was, I barely remembered the shape of the common runes in Old Runyk, let alone the meaning. They were similar to the common tongue, but the sounds assigned to half the letters were different, the diphthongs a mess, and I struggled to so much as write my name in it let alone understand a magical book. “Raphael mentioned there’s a library that might help?”

“Raphael. Raphael wanted you to translate that book?” It was the second time she’d said that as if she meant to put several expletives after it. “By the sixth hell, where did you even find that thing?”

I frowned at her. “The marshes. Given that it’s what he went all the way to the Witch Kingdom to seek out, it only makes sense we brought it back. The whole reason I’m here is because he offered me a thousand gold pieces to translate it.” A task I wasn’t sure I was up to, based on my limited success this morning.

But I wanted to succeed. Was determined to.

Amalthea shifted on her feet like she didn’t even want to be in the same room as the grimoire. She didn’t immediately correct me or agree with me, which meant one thing: She was keeping something from me and weighing how much to share. A cutting reminder that even though she had been all smiles while we dressed the night before, we weren’t confidants.

“Amalthea, what were you and everyone expecting Raphael to do while he went to the Witch Kingdom?” I waited a beat, and when she stayed silent, I pressed on: “Raphael said he was looking for something and wound up in Greymere, and I assumed it was due to bad information. But you’re a seer—if he has you guiding him to the grimoire, he shouldn’t be at risk of that. And last night, a noble mentioned something about an ‘abomination.’” I let the words hang. I could believe Lazarus didn’t know the truth, but Raphael had said himself he trusted Amalthea. Besides, wouldn’t he have at least consulted his court seer before setting off?

Still, Amalthea said nothing. She simply stood there, arms crossed protectively over her abdomen, not meeting my gaze.