I fled to the bathroom. The water was tepid and did little to ease the soreness that permeated my entire body. Amalthea was right, hot water really was superior. Not that this would be a day to taunt Demos. My feet wobbled when I got out and dressed. I pulled my hair back into a thick plait. It had turned wild from the night, and I didn’t have the energy to try to tame the knots. And because every time I pulled at the tangles, my headache compounded.

Hoping Raphael had finally left, I exited the washroom.

And there he was, appearing utterly relaxed as he sat on the settee. His legs were crossed as he spread out on the plush velvet, completely at home. Then again, the entire castle was his home. I was just staying here, for now. He thumbed through my notes.

“If you’re feeling even a fraction of what I am, you should tell me how to block the bond.” I was grateful his vampire hearing meant I didn’t have to speak too loudly, because even my own voice was painful.

“I have just the antidote, but you won’t accept it.” He lifted his wrist towards me. Right. Vampire blood. “I sent for Charlotte, and she offered that instead.” He pointed to a glass of putrid-looking liquid freshly set next to the bed.

My chest fluttered at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, even as when I lifted it to my lips, I had to fight to swallow it without spewing the liquid back in the cup. While I drank as quickly as my stomach would allow, Raphael leafed through my notes. I kept them tucked away, but not completely hidden.

“I’ve been making progress,” I assured him. The reminder of my purpose here compelled me to justify my progress. “It’s slow, but it will go faster once I get more familiar with the language.”

Raphael made a sound of acknowledgment, setting the papers aside. He seemed strangely disinterested in what I had to say. But wasn’t the whole point of me being here translating the book? I hid my frown. The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting together. Raphael wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble for something that was unimportant, surely. Last night, I’d trusted Raphael more than I had anyone in a very long time. And yet… things weren’t adding up. Something was being kept from me, I was certain.

“You’re right,” he said, interrupting my ruminations.

“Huh?”

“I will teach you how to block the bond. Meet me in my rooms at midnight tomorrow.”

Raphael swept out of the room, and I stared at his back for a long moment. Then my gaze swept to the clock on the mantel and realized I was tremendously late for practice.

I hurried down the halls, which were filled with servants, vampire and human alike. On reflex, I scanned for Titus, but just as with prior weeks, the spymaster was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t fight the feeling I was being watched, but maybe that had more to do with the fact the vampire king was seen leaving my bedroom. I had no doubts vampires were as relentless gossips as humans. My mother would’ve been aghast. Moreso if she knew I’d offered myself to the male last night—and had been rebuffed. Her imaginary rebuke faded as I rushed as much as possible without resorting to sprinting.

When I opened the room to the training arena, Amalthea and Demos were already there. More than that, they were sparring. Unlike the practice sticks Demos and I used, they had real weapons, and they were fast. Demos wasn’t using his vampire speed, but he was still winning.

I watched for a moment. Amalthea often wore a serene, teasing expression, her round face cherubic. But in the heat of battle, she was fierce. I’d not noticed when we’d sparred, too focused on dodging her stave.

Now, she wore fighting leathers and a leaf-shaped blade about the length of her arm. Demos wore his standard black. His blade was similarly dark. Odd. It didn’t reflect light, as if it was painted. I’d never seen him with a weapon drawn. In fact, in many ways, despite knowing his status, I’d come to conceptualize him as a teacher, a friend.

Iademos was a warrior. A vampire warrior.

And then he won. The tip of his blade was at her throat, a hairsbreadth from cutting her. Amalthea dropped her arm in submission, but her expression was annoyed. They didn’t seem aware I was here.

“You’re slow today,” he said. “This sloppiness could get you killed.”

She moved the blade away with the back of her forearm. “We don’t all metabolize alcohol so quickly.”

“Amalthea, you’re being pathetic.”

Anger rolled in my belly, sudden and riotous. “Don’t say that to her,” I snapped.

Both heads turned to me in sync, eyes wide. I stepped into the training arena, my hands curling into fists. The sight of the vampire with his blade at my friend’s throat, browbeating her… Something foreign and monstrous in me roared.

“Apologize to her,” I snarled.

“Amalthea, I apologize,” Demos said immediately, not looking away from me.

Some of the anger inside me uncoiled, appeased.

Amalthea looked between us. “Sam, it’s okay. Really. You know how Demos is. And I give as good as I get.” She elbowed the vampire, but he was still looking at me.

I flushed. All at once, it was obvious I’d overreacted. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t feel right.” I tried to catalog my feelings and figure out where I’d gone wrong. Was it the fact Titus had reminded me how weak I was? The memories from last night? Or had something in me always been fragile, at the brink of breaking?

The uncertainty made my breaths come shallow.

Amalthea came over and ran her hand lightly over my arm. “It’s okay, Sam. No apology needed. Demos and I can get a little caustic, but we can try to tone it down.”

I shook my head. “No, no. Something came over me, but I’m fine now.” It was only a half-lie. The sudden black rage had passed, but I felt miles from fine. “You’re in training leathers,” I remarked, desperate to change the subject.

“Amalthea lost a bet last night, so she’s agreed to train with you,” Demos explained.

I wanted to ask the subject of the bet, but I still felt weird for snapping at Demos so I just accepted it with a nod. Demos began to walk us through a new series of drills with real blades, and I welcomed the distraction. It was nice to train with someone else, especially since Amalthea, even hungover, had better form than me. Demos worked with me like nothing had happened, the whole incident forgotten.

But it wasn’t. Something had changed in the way he watched me.

I wasn’t sure I liked it.

When I got back to my room, something was… off. It took me a moment to pinpoint what had changed: my bed. The spread was the same, the four post pillars identical, but the slightest wood frame peeked out from under the draped blanket. A note was on my bedside table.

Check the bottom right corner. —R

I did as instructed. Before, my bed had been elevated on four posts. Now, under the mattress, the wooden frame extended all the way to the ground. On the far right side, opposite the entryway, there was a small locking mechanism. I admired the elegance of it. The way it was set up, I wouldn’t have noticed it if Raphael hadn’t pointed it out. When I maneuvered the siding, the wooden panel dropped away, surprisingly lightweight.

That was the least of the marvels the bed now contained. Inside were two pillows and a properly fitted blanket. I pressed my palm into the blanket. More than that, Raphael had something done so the carpet under the bed was even softer. Inside was a small clock. I frowned, peering farther in.

Although the wood appeared solid from the outside, light was able to get through. I eased my body under. More than that, the carved base was strategically cut so I could see if anyone came into the room. Before, I’d kept the covers from the main bed pulled so I wouldn’t be seen if anyone came in, but like this I wouldn’t need to, and instead could feel secure that I wasn’t blind to anybody coming.