“Who?” No one had come by our chambers except for Gaston, when we needed an escort.
“A surprise.”
I puzzled over that as I plucked a fresh dress from the wardrobe and padded across the mosaic floor.
If nothing else, it would hopefully distract me from the aftershocks of grinding against Raphael and drinking his blood. Part of me, the part that sounded like my mother, condemned the behavior. The wanton way I’d pressed against him. The way I wanted to pull my fangs from his throat and drag his lips against mine. The way I wanted to know how his erection felt not just against my thigh but inside me, in a way I’d never experienced before.
But let the second hell burn me. I’d agreed to live like a vampire and stop fighting these impulses. When bites made vampires feel like that, surely it was just a natural extension.
The fact that the bath was steaming instead of icy made it hard to focus on the surprise Raphael had mentioned.
Was it another vampire dignitary, like Lady Jaen? Some other political visit? Or was it something related to my training? We’d worked on blood drinking and thralling—I wasn’t sure how much was left. Or was it someone else, like Thea visiting, or Larissa coming to teach more horseback riding? When I left the chamber, dressed and with a slight smattering of cosmetics applied, I went back to pester Raphael.
The bad news was, centuries-old vampire kings didn’t succumb to pestering. He ignored most of my guesses, informed me Thea couldn’t be joining us here given that it took over almost two months to traverse from the north to the south on horse since they had to avoid both the Condemned Cliffs and the Witch Kingdom, and just glared when I guessed it might be Larissa.
The good news was, the knock at the door came only a quarter hour after I’d dressed, so I didn’t have to wait long.
At Raphael’s signal, Gaston opened our door and let a familiar void into our chambers.
“Ansel?” The flutist from two nights ago hadn’t been in my top fifty guesses. She carried two cases in her hand, and a thin book under her same arm.
“Lady Samara, a pleasure. King Raphael extended me an invitation.” When she saw him pass through the bedroom where he’d been reading, she fell into a deep curtsy. Impressive since she managed that with the book still tucked away.
The cases were small, the right size for her flute. Raphael had brought her here for a private performance, I realized.
How thoughtful. Warmth bloomed in my chest. Thea had alluded to the fact Raphael had done so before in Damerel, but it had been something plausibly denied. This was more overt. I’d have to think of some way to thank him.
I peppered Ansel with several questions while she set up. She perched the thin book tucked under her arm on one of the couches, opening to a lined page dotted with notes, then unclasped the case.
The flute was beautiful, even disassembled. The silver gleamed, obviously well cared for, with several keys the musician could manipulate to change the sound. Ansel connected the three pieces and handed the instrument to me so I could examine it.
Then she opened the second case and began to assemble another flute.
I halted my examination of her flute. “What’s that one for?”
Ansel peered over my shoulder at Raphael, then gave me a funny look. “Your lesson. The one in your hands is my own instrument, but this will be yours to use.”
Lesson. She wasn’t here for a performance after all.
I was too startled to protest, and Ansel easily moved on now that she was set up. She traded our instruments, handing me the new flute.
If possible, this was even finer. The silver gleamed, reflecting the moonlight that trickled into the room with the open curtains.
She named each of the parts, explaining the function each had in making the sweet notes I was so fond of. She then showed me how to hold my fingers, demonstrating then repositioning my hands and correcting my finger positions. It was far more intricate than the one I’d carved from a carrot as a child.
And this flute had no place in a soup.
An hour flew by before I even glanced at the clock.
Ansel beamed at me when I finally managed the latest exercise. “You’ve done really well today. You’ll be playing advanced pieces in no time.”
I lowered the flute from my lips, embarrassed. “You must be a gifted teacher.”
She barked a laugh and began wiping the flute before setting it in the case. “Not at all. I never do lessons. But it’s always a pleasure to get to help someone find their love of music.”
“I’m sincerely grateful. This was lovely.” I took the cloth from the other case to clean the flute before disassembling, and then held it to her.
The flutist shook her head, smiling. “That and the book are yours. To continue your practice.”
