“Come on,” I cajoled him. “That morning you tried to get her to do the drills with me early on, and she said she would sooner ‘dip’ her ‘manicured nails in pig dung than chip them after spending two hours painting them…’”
“I believe it was actuallyrabidkobold dung,” he corrected.
I snorted. “Right. That was an important distinction. A masterful negotiation, since she didn’t join the exercise in the end.”
“She can be diplomatic when she wants to be,” Demos eventually said. There was no warmth in the words, but some of the frost had eased.
We hadn’t been close friends, but Demos had been kind to me, a far more patient teacher than Raphael. It was beyond selfish to want that back. Pointless to want friendship with a vampire general, especially when I’d be leaving soon.
But even knowing that, I still missed it.
A small, heretical part of me ached for the life I might have had if I didn’t have this magic, this duty, if I’d just gotten to continue as a void, mortal, in Damerel, training with Demos, taking tea with Thea and exchanging glances with Raphael.
“That’s fair. She’s gotten me into a number of dresses I never would have imagined agreeing to.” She’d also managed to make Demos agree to a number of concessions in our time together, including him fetching biscuits or blankets or coming shopping to carry her bags, without complaint. But it didn’t seem wise to bring that up now.
Demos was quiet for a beat. “You said you wanted to go to the library?”
I perked up, not sure why the change in subject. “Yes.” I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I needed something beyond barbed conversation with Demos for stimulation.
“Fine. Just for half an hour, assuming the bond allows.”
I wasn’t sure what had changed Demos’s mind, but I didn’t hesitate. I pulled on my slippers and followed Demos out the door.
Chapter Thirty-One
Raphael
“Are you trying tolose?” Julian complained.
The southern king was sprawled out on the chair across from him, indolence at its purest. He didn’t bother with finery in his clothing. All he wore was a loose linen shirt, open halfway to his navel, and a pair of trousers made of some animal hide or other. The only exception was the smattering of silver jewelry he adorned himself with, more than half a dozen silver rings scattered across both hands, and a few more pieces dangling from one ear. One pierced the skin, no small feat given vampire regeneration.
The open night sky was the only reprieve from Julian’s colossal ego. Raphael sat with him on the terrace off the southern king’s gaming hall. It wasn’t a euphemism for anything more sordid—the king collected games from all over the continent and beyond, stored in cedar boxes that lined the shelves.
Raphael favored chess. It was a classic for a reason. A board sat between them, littered with pieces far from the startingformation. Though it was King Julian who’d wanted to discuss rumors, he was obviously in no hurry to.
“Hardly,” Raphael growled.
If Julian were actually the impatient child he sometimes played at being, Raphael could have dismissed him. But Julian was no fool, no matter how he liked to act. Hence Raphael’s claimed rook, cleric, and pawns.
Of course, Raphael had also taken both of Julian’s knights and several other pawns.
The vampire reached for the bottle of blood mead, filling his cup and then offering to fill Raphael’s own goblet. His goblet that sat untouched. “Is the blood not to your taste? I can have something else brought. Or perhaps for once you’re not thirsty?”
He hadn’t had a sip because the blood wine tasted like shit. Everything did compared toher. And while he had centuries of practice mastering his expression, Julian had centuries of practice reading any micro-expressions that might betray him—like how badly he craved blood from one specific female.
On reflex, he ran a mental finger down the length of the bond, checking for tension. As expected, it had eased now that Samara had at least begun to indulge her own thirst. The fledgling bond existed to keep newly turned vampires close to their sire until they could survive on their own. With most, it lasted only a few days, but with how obstinate she was, they were in uncharted seas. For good or for ill.
“Just play,” Raphael growled.
Julian took the offered pawn. “If you’re not trying to insult me with an easy match, then you must be distracted. I imagine I know with what. Or I suppose I should saywith whom.”
Raphael contemplated the board, running a finger over the rim of his goblet without disturbing the liquid.
“Your fledgling, I mean,” Julian added when Raphael didn’t take the bait.
Raphael advanced his rook. “I know who you meant.”
“Oh good. So you’re deliberately being rude by not introducing us?”
