My brows rose, surprised. Vampires developed increased stamina over the centuries, but they still slept regularly. “Truly? You must be exhausted.”
He ignored my proclamation. “I’ll watch over you. No one will come for you.”
It shouldn’t have been that easy, dispelling years’ worth of fear, of trauma.
And it wasn’t, in truth. But despite everything, despite the fact Raphael was the biggest threat to me if he learned my true identity, my brain relaxed and stopped trying to puzzle out a way to feel safe enough to sleep.
I pulled the top sheet back, watching Raphael in my periphery. He pulled a chair into the room, his legs kicked out, crossed at the ankles.
I crawled under the covers.
And while Raphael sat, an eternal guard, I let the dawn take me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Samara
Training with Raphael didn’thappen in an arena or in a secluded corner of the beach.
It happened in the market.
We wove between stalls, vendors calling out their goods, and the import of Limanos as a center of trade came into focus while I wondered where we were going. Raphael had slipped his hand into mine, not pulling, but enough to be claiming.
No one paid us more than a cursory look. The finely embroidered mauve dress that clung to my hips was barely visible beneath my matching crushed velvet cloak that was as impractical as it was pretty. Raphael’s own attire was only slightly sturdier and no less expensive. We matched, I supposed. It marked us as people with money, but that didn’t seem to be so unusual for those at the festival.
Demos trailed behind us, shrouded in all black save the silver buttons of his tunic. He glared at everyone and everything, including the back of my head. Larissa had offered to come, but Raphael opted to have as few of us as possible.
I’d have much preferred Larissa to the general glaring at my every move. If I thought he’d warmed to me once more during the trip, the way he’d taken one sniff at me and scented his king’s blood inside me again ruined that.
Still, I tried to ignore him and study the surroundings. Raphael hadn’t told me where we were headed, and I knew better than to try to needle him for answers.
There were spices of every color spread out in an incredible array; textiles Amalthea would have stopped us in front of for at least an hour; street performers—acrobats, bards, musicians.
There was a flutist no older than ten, who smiled wide when he took his breaths between songs. Raphael set a coin in his outstretched cap as we passed. No big movement of his fingers, barely a flick of the wrist, but theclinkwas audible to me even over the rest of the din.
A card cart caught my attention. Enchanted cards were pinned around the edges. My reading speed had improved with vampire speed; I parsed the symbols at a glance. Basic elemental cards wreathed the posts. Most likely made by low-level aquamancers, pyromancers, pneumancers and the like. Not unlike what would be found in a small village.
“There are witches? Here?” I asked, surprised.
“The occasional trader will get ambitious and enter the Witch Kingdom to trade, but some also inhabit the kingdom.”
Why would witches who had magic leave the safety of their own kingdom? I’d barely reconciled voids leaving. Was it really that easy to coexist? It went against everything I remembered from my childhood, the hushed tones vampires were discussed with, the pity reserved for those who couldn’t afford to live in the walled city.
The merchant ignored us entirely while he called out to every other decently dressed person in the crowd. Vampires couldn’tuse magic, as Raphael told me. They needed a mortal to cast spells.
“Can other species use enchanted cards?” I asked, curious. My world had been confined to witches, voids, and vampires. But here there was a broader array than I’d ever imagined.
“Some can, most can’t. It depends on the nature of their own innate magic.”
“What about a kobold?” I asked.
“Sapient creatures only,” Demos said, speaking for the first time since he’d grunted his greeting this evening.
Raphael nodded, pausing for a moment to listen for something. I wasn’t sure what noise he was trying to pick out, but I caught the slight tuck of his chin when he identified whatever he sought. “True fae can. Their magic is similar enough. But for others, like the Winged Ones and the shape-changers, their natures are too different.”
True fae. I asked him to point some out to me, and he obliged, discreetly, when we passed a trio of blade-eared travelers in fine clothing cut to highlight lean lines of muscle. There was something about the way they moved, a grace to them, not the purely economical movements of aged vampires, but almost feline, in the way any action seemed intentional and artful.
We reached a crowd that was larger than any other around the other performers. I expected Raphael to weave us around it, but instead he settled into the throng without a word. I waited for him to drop my hand at last, but when he didn’t, I focused on the performance.
