“Your friend?” Demos scoffed, taking a step back. “Have you already forgotten she betrayed us? She tried to kill our king!”
More shame hit me.I didn’t mean towas a paltry excuse.
“But that did not come to pass,” Thea countered.
Demos scoffed. “Because most of her blood was already gone by the time he drank from her. And where wereyouin this? You’re supposed to warn us of these threats. Some oracle.”
Thea’s expression crumpled before it was reforged with steel. The statement hung between us all for a second. Demos seemed to realize the weight of his accusation, his lips parting to speak—to apologize?
But it was Thea who spoke first. “I willalwayslook out for the good of the kingdom.”
“And so will I,” Demos growled, any forthcoming apology gone. “Even though you both seem determined to keep a known threat with us.”
The last part was directed at Raphael.
“She’s mine,” Raphael snapped right back, “and if I say she stays, she stays.”
Even after the poisoning?
Demos looked between the three of us, then rolled his shoulders back. “Fools. I’m surrounded by fools. I’m not going to get through to you tonight. The next time you stick your fangs in her and taste poison, you’ve no one to blame but yourself.”
Demos stormed out without waiting for a proper dismissal.
Now it was just the three of us—king, oracle, abomination.
Thea crossed the room and flopped onto the couch, kicking her heels up on the low table in front of it.
“Okay, Sam. Tell us what in all the hells happened?”
Chapter Five
Samara
I froze.
I knew this moment was coming. But being so lost in the bloodlust, I hadn’t formulated much of a coherent story. As I’d learned earlier with Raphael, my words weren’t my own anymore. To avoid lying, my lips would spill any truth that came easiest if I wasn’t careful.
I walked over to the fireplace, trying to buy some time to think. If the wrong truth came out, I might very well get my wish for the true death—and the world would be without a necromancer for another two hundred years.
The embers danced in the fire, twisting from orange to red to yellow.
“He approached me shortly after I arrived. Titus,” I clarified, not looking at either of them. I crouched and added another log to the hearth. The wood frayed, shooting a splinter into my finger. Blood beaded at the tip. I stared at it for a moment. I felt nothing for it, no hunger, no thirst. The flesh closed a second later. “He claimed that because I was Raphael’s Chosen, I’d beable to get close to him and could serve the Witch Kingdom. The first time, I declined.”
I turned around and faced my jury of two. Thea was still lounging on the couch, but her expression was sharp, belying the casual posture. Raphael leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His face was blank, the way it had been blank when he’d presided over his court—before giving a death sentence.
“You didn’t tell me this.” This came from Raphael. Not an accusation, but… close.
I settled into a chair perpendicular to the couch. “No. I didn’t. It was just after I arrived, like I said, and I didn’t plan to stay long. I worried”—I had to pick my words carefully—“if I revealed I’d been approached, you might kill me just for that.”And that if you captured Titus, he’d reveal secrets I couldn’t afford to have cast from the shadows.“I may have…likedyou at the time, but I didn’t trust the vampires. Still, I did tell Titus I wanted no part of his schemes.”Likedmay have been an understatement, but the rest of it was the truth.
If only I’d stayed strong.
“I didn’t see him again for a while. But he was working in the shadows. The librarian who went crazy? Titus somehow convinced him I was a threat with my research so that he’d attack me. Then Titus kept telling me to see the donors. And none of you would take me to see them.” There was an accusation in my voice now.
Sometimes the best defensive maneuvers involved attacking.
“Because you clearly found it traumatic,” Thea argued. “Why expose yourself to something you find objectionable?”
“Something necessary for your survival now?” Raphael wasn’t gloating, but his gaze was direct, refusing to let me avoid that truth.
