One of those things, I could change.
“I’ll go,” I said.
Both looked at me in surprise. Obviously, Thea had been ready to go back and forth on that argument another dozen times, as she usually had to.
“But I want one thing to be clear: I’m not your Chosen anymore.”
Raphael’s expression went carefully blank.
Thea gaped, before offering a conciliatory, “Sam…”
“It was only for appearances anyway. It didn’t mean anything.” I kept my gaze on Thea but couldn’t help but watch Raphael from the corner of my eye. Couldn’t help but mark the slight flinch with some satisfaction. “And it didn’t keep me safe.” It just marked me as one of his belongings. In the eyes of vampires, I would now always be his anyway—his turned human pet.
Unless I teach them to fear me as something more,a dark part whispered.
“I’m not going to be your Chosen anymore,” I repeated, when Raphael said nothing to acknowledge me. I would show them I was something else, something different.
“Fine,” he bit out.
That didn’t feel satisfying at all. Remembering the pain of the morning, I added, “And I want a new bedroom. At least four hundred paces away.” I neededspacefrom the vampire king. Maybe that would help ease the cursed thirst in me. Help break the bond that tied me here.
“Whatever you require,” he said, sheathing his blade without looking at me.
That… I wasn’t sure even Raphael could give me.
The fledgling bond meantit was Raphael who pushed the dressmaker’s shop door open barely two hours later.
Everything halted when the vampire king arrived. Several seamstresses were fitting vampiresses throughout the space, each set on a pedestal. Bertha, the owner, gaped as Raphael stepped inside.
“Your Majesty!” she cried, falling into a curtsy before Raphael. “How might I serve the Crown today? A dress for your newly sired progeny, if I may presume? Lady Amalthea, Lady Samara,” she added as a distant afterthought. “It was such an honor to create your dress for the eclipse. I trust you were satisfied with the quality of the craftsmanship.”
I bit down a retort about the fate of that dress.Oh yes, the red fabric went beautifully with my abdominal stabbing.
“A gown for three days from now. I trust that’s enough time,” Thea answered on Raphael’s behalf.
Bertha bobbed her head with vigor. “Oh, of course. Right this way. We already have your measurements, so this will hardly take any time at all. Not that we’d dream of rushing your Chosen,” she quickly added. “What do you envision her in? Something like this?”
She pulled out a silk dyed such a deep purple it was nearly black. The weft was finely done, almost appearing liquid.
“Samara? What do you think?” he asked.
I sucked on my lower lip. “The fabric is suitable.” It was lovely. Dark too. Not something I would have picked before, but now it felt appropriate. I debated letting the Chosen comment slide, butI’d just made such a fuss. “But as it’s been decided, I am not the king’s Chosen anymore.”
Bertha blinked, the bundle of fabric hanging in her outstretched arms as she stared at me. The silver-tongued shopkeeper was at a loss for what to say.
“This fabric it is, then,” Raphael said easily. “Myfledglingcan instruct you on what she wants made.”
Bertha blinked at the clear change, obviously trying to process how to adjust her view of me. It lasted only a moment, though, before she returned to business as usual.
“Girl! Bring my shears!” she called around me.
I continued to glare at Raphael. I might have been able to break the Chosen bond, but the fledgling one… it was forever.
A familiar figure stepped out from the back carrying gold-plated shears. Josephine’s face split into a wide smile when she stepped around to the front of the stand and met my gaze.
“Oh, Lady Samara! Congratulations.”
She beamed at me, and I was struck silent, unsure what she was congratulating me for. I looked from her to Raphael, as if he might have answers. His jaw was tight, but unlike me, he didn’t look confused.
