The court secretary cleared his throat. “Janessa of the Ash-Sworn clan petitions King Raphael to allow her to turn Crowley Adinamos to one of the night people, and live as a member of her clan.”

The night people. A vampire?

Demos tensed besides me, but I stared at Raphael. He extended a hand, waving them to continue. He hadn’t directly responded to the other petitions, as they’d been to the court, but this power must exclusively reside with him.

“Tell us your service, Mister Adinamos.”

Crowley cast a nervous glance back, then shuffled a few steps forward, wringing his hands.

“Your Highness,” he stammered.

Your Majesty, I silently corrected.

“I’ve served the Ash-Sworn clan faithfully for more than thirty years. I’ve submitted papers outlining my contributions.” He gestured to the secretary, who lifted a thick stack of parchment.

“I’ll hear it from your mortal tongue,” Raphael said without humor.

“O-of course.” The stammering returned. “I didn’t mean to imply—that is—I’ve worked hard, King Raphael. I’ve worked tirelessly as one of their actuaries for decades. There are books filled in the accounting I’ve done. My eyes have paid the price.” He raised a hand to the spectacles on his face. “And my service is without barriers. I’ve given blood, when requested—as is my privilege!” he quickly clarified. “I have lived a life without magic, after you… err… graciously accepted me in your kingdom. That is of course its own reward. But my most ardent dream is to prove myself worthy of eternal service.”

My stomach cramped. Demos quietly offered to escort me outside, but I waved him off. I wanted to see this. Needed to.

A human choosing to give up their humanity.

Crowley dithered through a few other accomplishments, pressing his glasses back now and again with his third finger. It was a ploy, perhaps, showing himself with mortal hair that was white only from age, mortal eyes strained from labor. A price he’d paid in hopes Raphael would wipe the slate clean and gift him immortality.

“And then”—Crowley’s voice lifted in triumph—“the reason for my petition came. A fortnight ago, a young vampire was injured, not even ten. He had fallen into a ravine. His legs were broken, and he had no chance of climbing out. I aided him, provided him with blood, and returned him to his parents. I can think of no higher service I could offer than to remain in the kingdom’s service forever.”

At last, the man stopped speaking. There was utter silence in the room, as if everyone held a collective breath while awaiting Raphael’s decision. Of course, most of the courtroom didn’t need to breathe. Still, the silence was so bad I could imagine myself hearing Crowley’s heartbeat, twin to my own racing one—with excitement, while mine ached with dread.

“I have considered your petition.” Raphael spoke in that slow, unhurried tone I’d first heard from him, like unending night. “You make some valid arguments for why you deserve to be one of the blood. Your actions with the son are telling of your character. In fact, I believe though you demurred, the young vampire was none other than the heir to the clan you serve.”

Did I imagine Crowley taking a half step backwards?

“You have my blessing.” Raphael nodded to Janessa. “Turn him. Now.”

Janessa looked surprised, as did everyone else in the room. Not blatantly whispering, but there were telling shifts of eyes, adjusted stances. Something was off.

“Didn’t they want this?” I asked Demos under my breath.

“The turning is normally done in private,” he explained. “But I’m sure Raphael has his reasons.”

Lady Janessa stepped over to Crowley, taking center stage with him. They were on display. “Here, Your Majesty?” she murmured.

He gave a casual flick of his fingers, not deigning to repeat himself. He was still the picture of casual grace, but something in his eyes was cold.

Once Janessa leaned over, I could look nowhere else. Bile coated the back of my throat, and I wondered if I’d made a grave mistake in not taking Demos up on his offer to stand outside.

But I stayed.

I had to see.

The vampiress brushed the human’s hair away and bit into his soft, sagging skin. His lips parted, but he made no move to get away. I could imagine exactly why—and why this would be done in private.

He fell to the floor, and she went with him, kneeling as he lay in her lap.

She didn’t let go with her fangs. He grew paler and paler, his skin almost the white of the vampire by the time she withdrew her lips.

With a nail, she clawed her own wrist open and drenched his parted lips in her blood. His chest was no longer rising and falling.

The air in the room was suddenly too thick, pressing in on all sides, but I couldn’t look away.

She killed him. And now she was to resurrect him.

“Just one small matter,” Raphael said.

All eyes swung to the king.

“Your Majesty?” she said, meekly. Perhaps turning was exhausting for the vampire?

“The boy Crowley saved—your nephew, as I recall. How did Crowley find him?”

She blinked. “I… that is a better question for Crowley, Your Majesty. Once he has turned, I’ve every hope he will be able to answer your queries to satisfaction.”

“Naturally,” Raphael replied easily. “Then perhaps this one will be more suited to your domain. How did your nephew get injured in the first place?”

Janessa looked pale, even paler than usual for a vampire. Blood was smeared over her lips, which were parted as she stared up from the floor at Raphael on the high throne. “It is not unusual for young vampires to overestimate—”

“Do not attempt to deceive me!” Raphael roared.

I flinched.

The entire room flinched.

“You stupid, stupid child,” Raphael snarled. “You think you can manipulate your king into gifting your toy immortality?”

“Your Majesty, I only—”

“Silence!” Raphael snarled. “I’ll tell you what you did. You convinced your nephew to leave his bed, then led him down to the ravine. You hurled him over the side. And while he cried, bones broken into splinters, betrayed by someone blood-bound to protect him, you extorted him. You told him if he vowed not to say a word of your sins, he could have some of that pathetic worm’s blood. And why? Because you wanted your lover to be turned, and you’d both grown tired of waiting. You wanted to be absolutely sure I’d be so moved by his noble gesture, I would permit it.” He leaned forward, his fingers curled over the arms of his throne. “Go on. Tell me I’m wrong.”

The vampiress opened and closed her lips, but no sound passed. She couldn’t lie.

“Of course,” Raphael continued, “it turns out you’re as conniving as you are stupid. You made him vow not to tell anyone, but once the fingers in his hands healed, he was able to write his responses.”

The entire court was silent. I fought the urge to vomit. I’d thought there was nothing worse than giving up mortality to become a vampire—but Crowley had abandoned his humanity long before if he thought this was in any world justifiable.

Raphael had clearly known about this. Why go through this charade?

“Punishment should suit the misdeed. I’ve allowed you to turn him, to give him the eternal life he hungered for.” A pause. “Snap his neck. Now.”

“Mercy, Your Majesty!” She fell to her hands, pleading. “Punish me instead.”

“Oh, I am.” Raphael rose from his throne, taking one slow step down the dais at a time. “You will live.” He took another step. “Knowing you took his years of service, and his reward is death from his own sire.” Another step. “And you will live the rest of your life in exile.” Another step. “You betrayed your own clan when you harmed your nephew. No vampire will let you take refuge with them now.”

He stood in front of Janessa, who was crying on her hands and knees. I felt no pity at the sight, only hatred.