“It’s not that simple.” He couldn’t understand. Especially since I couldn’t risk explaining.
“Because you won’t let it be simple.” His voice dropped, a coaxing whisper only for me. “What if it was? What if you let yourself take what you want not just today but every day after? If you stopped making yourself a slave to what you think youshouldwant and instead trusted that your inherent desires aren’t wrong or selfish or dangerous?”
If I did that… if I let myself consider what I most selfishly wanted, I’d never leave this bed. Never leave Raphael’s arms. The ones that had made me feel safe when I killed a man, that had put a flute in my grasp as if art were something worth my time, the arms that I wanted to run into even now—the arms I could see myself waking up in dusk after dusk with Raphael’s name on my tongue, a smile on my lips, just because he was there.
I wanted it so badly.
It might kill me to never have it. Because deep in my soul, I knew I would never have this again. There was no one who could compare to the male who knelt before me, centuries of battle written on his skin, who had coaxed me from my fears so many times.
If I let him, he’d convince me. And when I disappointed him, he’d kill me.
He wouldn’t want to. Surely, after all this, he wouldn’t want to.
But he was a king. And a king’s duty was always,alwaysfirst to his people.
“Just… I’m going to bathe.” I slid out of the bed, and Raphael let me go. There was no point clutching a sheet for modesty. It wouldn’t leave me any less exposed.
The bond would be broken.
And so too, perhaps, my heart.
Chapter Forty-Three
Samara
When I finally leftthe bathing chamber, long after even the enchanted hot water had cooled, Raphael was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Larissa and another soldier were in the sitting room, standing guard at the door. I acknowledged them with a nod and swallowed the hurt that he’d left me.
After all, I couldn’t blame him. His plan had worked—the bond had eased enough that he didn’t need to be attached at the hip to me. Just what I’d wanted—no, what I’d needed.
When we returned to Damerel, I would take the grimoire and go. Even if Thea wasn’t there, I couldn’t bear to stay a day longer than necessary.
It would be better, kinder, to leave like this, quarreling. It would provide a plausible excuse for why I was suddenly ready to leave so abruptly.
I shut the bedroom door, looking at the space. It felt much emptier now.
A dress lay on the bed. It was unlike any that had been offered to me before, but it fit the mask on its side perfectly. It wassleeveless, with no corset, so I didn’t need any assistance, just some determination to squeeze my body into it.
Instead of examining the dress, I went back to Raphael’s side table, leafing through what was there. The letter hadn’t moved. I hadn’t seen Lady Jaen since, and hadn’t managed to get any further details. Maybe tonight I would stay on the edges, listening for bits of conversation. I wished I could just ask Raphael, but I was terrified of where those questions might lead.
I ran my fingers over the fabric of the dress. Someone—Raphael?—had left jewelry. A bracelet, and armband, and a purple sapphire on a long chain, all gold. I approached them cautiously, but best I could tell, they were utterly mundane. The band and bracelet were fashioned after snakes, and once on, it covered the tattoo on my wrist. I’d found myself looking at it more and more through the day. Leaving Raphael was necessary for survival. Of myself, of the witches. Even if it hurt, it had to happen. And then, like this ink had healed, so too would the pain in my chest.
The necklace was long enough to slip over my head, but I hesitated, set it back down, and then went to dig into the trunks.
There. My pendant—my last tie to the Witch Kingdom. Another reminder of why I was doing all this.Thatwas my home. Where I belonged. Against Ferro, I’d even been able to call on magic from his cards. That blessing might have been from the goddess herself, though I didn’t dare try to summon magic around Raphael. From what I’d read, vampires couldn’t use magic—but Thea had also reminded me they never turned witches.
I removed the pendant and switched it to the golden chain, tucking the original back amongst my things. Since the chain sat low enough to be hidden against my skin, it could serve as a private reminder.
I styled my hair half up, half down, in the mirror. I no longer had to suppress a shudder when I saw the red eyes looking back at me. I could sincerely appraise my looks. The dress was fitted at the bust and waist, giving me some semblance of curves, which were accentuated by the strange pattern. The neckline was sharp, daring but powerful. Rather than fabric, it was made of little scales that managed to be formfitting without constricting. The entire dress had an iridescent sheen that changed color as I moved through the light, from deep mauve to glimmering violet, with hints of green in the shadows.
It was, without a doubt, the most stunning piece of clothing I’d ever worn.
Raphael must have ordered it several days ago, maybe as soon as we’d arrived at Limanos, and spent a great deal on it.
The mask was a perfect match. I knotted it behind my face, adjusting it slightly. It had the same sheen, gold rimming the edges to tie together the jewelry. With the same red eyes and white hair as every vampire, I could have been almost anyone.
Selfishly, for the briefest moment, I let myself imagine that I was someone else. Someone who didn’t jump at the thought of sleeping in a bed, someone who hadn’t seen her mother ripped apart by a vampire in her nightmares, someone who wasn’t some mythical witch born only once every two centuries, that I was someone who could smile at the dress and imagine Raphael’s hands raking over it appreciatively, and could bask in the heat of his gaze.
Someone who could have him.
