The fear I felt walking around the halls of Damerel.

The helplessness when I saw her body.

The unending hatred for vampires.

And then, when they’d all landed true, I shoved my mental walls high, reeling back my errant emotions until they were tucked away in a tidy corner, the same place I put all the inconvenient feelings that got between me and survival.

Raphael looked to the other edge of the room, his gaze distant.

“Well?” I demanded, dissatisfied by the way he just sat there. “Did that please you? Did that voyeuristic look at my inner feelings satisfy your curiosity?”

Raphael didn’t turn to look at me. Instead, with that terrifying, preternatural speed, he simply moved from the bed to the space in front of me in the time it took me to blink.

“I want you to be safe,” he hissed. “I don’t crave your fear out of some perverse desire to make sure you realize exactly how breakable you are, but to be there at your side so no one else does so.”

I flinched. Breakable. Vampires couldn’t lie. That’s how he saw me.

Most days it was how I saw myself. Weak, breakable, pathetic. It made me scared. Made me cower around those stronger to appease them. Yet somehow, though I was no stronger than any other void, when Raphael said it, I didn’t feel like I was confronted with a truth. I felt like I was presented with an injustice, and it made me furious.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you slipped out without an escort.” His hands were around my biceps, not squeezing, but pressing in enough that I felt caged in. “Do you realize,” he said with deadly calm, “how easily that could have been you? When you decided to sneak out into the dark corners of my city, did you not stop and realize just how monumentally stupid that was?”

Stupid. Breakable. So much for strong and clever. “Am I safe or am I not?” I retorted. “You tell me no one will touch me. You make these promises that you yourself don’t seem to believe. They mean nothing.”

His red eyes seared me. “Is that what you think?”

No. Yes. I don’t know! I wanted to scream. “How simple the dividing line for you—if a human is worthy of your attention, then all should perish for looking at them. Yet if they live in your kingdom, with you as their ruler, trust you to care for them, they’re fools in your eyes. Veins to be tapped for your real citizens to feast on.”

Raphael scoffed. “Do you think your old king is any better?”

“I daresay he couldn’t be worse. You take what you want, Raphael. You and all the vampires. I understand the hierarchy you’ve set. I’m to be paraded around as your personal meal next week. Amalthea told me—something you didn’t bother to do.”

“Amalthea said what?” Raphael growled.

“The Tri-Lunar Eclipse. She’d seen you at my neck, despite all your promises to never drink from me again.” Raphael’s lips parted as if to protest, but I continued on before he could interject. “Wasn’t this your plan all along?”

“It was not,” Raphael growled. “I had another plan.”

“Oh?” I nearly snarled the word. “And was this plan to drink from another human and kill them?”

Raphael flinched as if I’d struck him.

But he didn’t deny it.

I shook my head in disbelief. “You were going to kill someone. And you probably weren’t even going to tell me. I’m upset because a human girl was killed, and you were about to do the same thing. So fine, Raphael. Drink from me. Claim my lifeblood if that’s what will save some unlucky human’s life, but know you’re no different than any of the other monsters. The only difference is that you treat me a little better, and the others see me as your pet, so that when they kill a human in their bloodlust, it’s one you don’t have use for.” I broke out of his grip with a tug of my shoulders. “Now, leave so I can get back to being useful, Your Majesty.”

Raphael remained rooted in his spot. “Do you not see that you’re different?”

As if this conversation hadn’t proved he saw me as he did every other worthless mortal, except that I was his. “I’m useful, as we agreed.” I gave the Black Grimoire a pointed look. “So I’d best get back to work.”

Still, Raphael remained. “Have you had success in your translations?” His voice was soft, coaxing.

I didn’t want small talk, but the quickest way to get rid of him was to pretend everything was fine. “It’s slow. Slower than I expected, so I have nothing to show for it. I should get back to it,” I repeated.

Raphael made no move to leave. He wasn’t oblivious. He simply didn’t care.

“By the fifth hell, Raphael, I want to be alone!” Apparently, I wasn’t so good at pretending.

Finally, Raphael moved. We crossed in opposite directions, me moving to the couch where the grimoire was and him towards the door. When he reached the doorframe, he paused.

“I mean it,” I said quietly from across the room. The urge to yell had passed in those few steps and now I could scarcely whisper. But no doubt he would hear every word. “I’ll go with you to the ball. Just leave me be until then.”

Raphael left.

I watched the door for several minutes, as if expecting him to come back.

To apologize? To say he’d find the vampire who murdered the donor and see justice done? To say he’d been wrong about the humans? About me? To say I didn’t need to go to the ball?

I didn’t know what I wanted from Raphael. Worse, I seemed to want everything, and everything was a delusion.

When I, at last, was confident he wasn’t coming back, I opened the grimoire. I’d been lying to Raphael for weeks now. Since I’d translated the opening line and realized it was the key to undoing the vampires, I’d thought of little else. Some parts were hard to interpret—winding prose, detailed origins of the goddess Anagenni, the meaning of death and all other kinds of philosophical dribble that didn’t mean anything concrete.

I slipped out the sheet where I’d translated the first true passage and traced my fingers over the dried ink on the parchment. I’d nearly memorized the words.

The undead bow to the necromancer. One witch is gifted to the world every two hundred years with Anagenni’s blessing. They alone can right the balance.

At first, I’d concluded Raphael must not realize what he had in his possession if he was letting me translate it. In the days since, I’d dismissed the thought. This was why Raphael hunted them. Because vampires weren’t stronger than all witches after all. That was why he’d taken the grimoire, so even if this necromancer rose to power they’d be weak. The book likely gave some hint of who it was or some secrets to their magic the vampires could use against them.

Somewhere out there was a witch who would be able to take on the vampires. To stop them from killing humans as they so pleased.

Once I finished, I planned to help them with the translated grimoire. But the truth was, I had no idea where to look. And every day wasted in searching would cost more lives.

I needed to do something more immediate to make the vampires realize they weren’t so untouchable.

That us weak, breakable mortals could fight back instead of being fodder.

Hours later, when the castle was quiet, I slipped out of my room once more.

That was why I slid a small parchment with one word scribbled on it behind the false rock Titus had shown me.

Yes.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Forty-Five

“You’re going to die when you see the dress,” Amalthea declared as she burst through the door the moment I opened it.

An eruption of red engulfed the space between us. I blinked at the color. It was startlingly bright, with layers and layers of skirts in a vibrant red hue.

The exact shade of freshly spilled blood.

Gods, I don’t want to do this.