Текст книги "A Bargain So Bloody"

Автор книги: Vasilisa Drake

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Chapter Forty-Four

“You’re avoiding me.”

I shrieked and nearly dropped my towel. When I’d entered the bathing chamber, my room had been empty. Now, Raphael was lounging on my bed, his hands tucked behind his head, flexing his biceps in the confines of his white shirt. His ankles were crossed, boots resting on the coverlet in a way that would have earned me an ear-ringing lecture from my mother.

In contrast, I was naked, save for the towel clutched perilously in one hand.

“Expecting privacy in my own room hardly counts as avoiding you,” I snapped.

Anger was good. Anger that let me cover the flush I felt encroaching on every inch of my body as Raphael arched a single eyebrow at me. The anger wasn’t about Raphael in the room—it was about the mutilated corpse I’d seen yesterday. But having him here in my space made it impossible to wall away those emotions, so I chose to focus on the immediate ones that made my blood roar, not the memory.

Part of me wondered, Did he like what he saw? Now that I’d put on some fat and muscle, turning into a woman more substantial than the skin-and-bones waif he’d met in Greymere…

I tightened my mental shields and kicked the thought aside. That was the trouble with kissing vampire kings who looked like Raphael. You started to wonder if your body was pleasing rather than when you’d outlive your usefulness and would be abandoned once more.

“You walked in on me wearing a towel,” he replied when he’d completed his appraisal. “I’d argue returning the favor should be expected.”

Unfortunately, he finished his a second before I finished mine, and the curve of his lips let me know he was aware I’d been looking too.

I skirted the room to get to the changing screen, where my dress was perched.

“I’d rather you leave now.”

“Eventually,” he repeated.

No one made the vampire king do a single thing he didn’t want to.

I blew out a breath of frustration. Either I grabbed my dress and marched across the room again to change in the bathing room with my tail between my legs, or I got out of my now-soaked towel and dressed in the same room as Raphael.

Even he can’t see through solid objects, I chided myself. Still, it felt utterly intimate to be changing clothes with Raphael in the room. I threw the dress on and walked out from the screen so I could cross my arms over my chest and tell Raphael what I thought of him camping on my bed.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

“Amalthea mentioned you saw something unpleasant yesterday.”

My fingers pressed harder into the flesh of my upper arms. The girl, massacred by a careless vampire. I didn’t even know her name. Her killer probably didn’t either. The scene where we’d found her body replayed over and over in my mind, but it was like I was a distant viewer. I saw it in my waking hours, and during what little sleep I’d had last night, I replayed a scenario where I’d done something different in the den and saved her.

I failed in each one.

“I didn’t feel it, you know,” Raphael continued. “I would have come if I’d felt it, but there wasn’t even a ripple. It’s impressive your shield didn’t slip even when dealing with such a shock. You’ve been a quick study in learning to secure your emotions.”

He called it impressive, yet neither of us was impressed. For me, it made sense. I’d spent my entire life suppressing my feelings in front of others, and in turn, to myself. And I’d had extra motivation to block out Raphael. Now that I planned to take the grimoire once I finished using his resources to translate it, it was all the more important I hid my true feelings. As exposed as I’d felt with only my towel for modesty, I felt completely exposed at the thought of Raphael feeling my emotions.

“And that’s what bothers you. The fact you couldn’t feel my emotions. Not that an innocent girl was mutilated by one of your citizens.”

Raphael made no denial. “These things happen. You are my priority, not some random human who signed up as a donor.”

Because in whatever moral compass he followed, the humans didn’t matter. I did. Knowing whether I was upset was of paramount importance. But the fact I was upset one of my kind was killed by one of his meant nothing.

Titus was right.

“Fine,” I snarled, my fingers curling into fists. “You want to know my emotions? Here.”

They unfurled inside me. I hadn’t simply locked them away from Raphael, but myself. Now, I let it all pour out of me. The anger. The disgust. The hatred for the one who had maimed that girl was overwhelming. I despised them all for being complicit. The ones who walked by. The ones who would let whatever vampire feed again. The ones who stole children, the ones who hurled them into ravines for their own gain. The hatred I’d known since childhood, the memories that had tormented me for years—I unleashed them too. Raphael recoiled, just slightly, as each one slammed into him.

The fear I felt walking around the halls of Damerel.

The helplessness when I saw her body.

The unending hatred for vampires.

And then, when they’d all landed true, I shoved my mental walls high, reeling back my errant emotions until they were tucked away in a tidy corner, the same place I put all the inconvenient feelings that got between me and survival.

Raphael looked to the other edge of the room, his gaze distant.

“Well?” I demanded, dissatisfied by the way he just sat there. “Did that please you? Did that voyeuristic look at my inner feelings satisfy your curiosity?”

Raphael didn’t turn to look at me. Instead, with that terrifying, preternatural speed, he simply moved from the bed to the space in front of me in the time it took me to blink.

“I want you to be safe,” he hissed. “I don’t crave your fear out of some perverse desire to make sure you realize exactly how breakable you are, but to be there at your side so no one else does so.”

I flinched. Breakable. Vampires couldn’t lie. That’s how he saw me.

Most days it was how I saw myself. Weak, breakable, pathetic. It made me scared. Made me cower around those stronger to appease them. Yet somehow, though I was no stronger than any other void, when Raphael said it, I didn’t feel like I was confronted with a truth. I felt like I was presented with an injustice, and it made me furious.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you slipped out without an escort.” His hands were around my biceps, not squeezing, but pressing in enough that I felt caged in. “Do you realize,” he said with deadly calm, “how easily that could have been you? When you decided to sneak out into the dark corners of my city, did you not stop and realize just how monumentally stupid that was?”

Stupid. Breakable. So much for strong and clever. “Am I safe or am I not?” I retorted. “You tell me no one will touch me. You make these promises that you yourself don’t seem to believe. They mean nothing.”

His red eyes seared me. “Is that what you think?”

No. Yes. I don’t know! I wanted to scream. “How simple the dividing line for you—if a human is worthy of your attention, then all should perish for looking at them. Yet if they live in your kingdom, with you as their ruler, trust you to care for them, they’re fools in your eyes. Veins to be tapped for your real citizens to feast on.”

Raphael scoffed. “Do you think your old king is any better?”

“I daresay he couldn’t be worse. You take what you want, Raphael. You and all the vampires. I understand the hierarchy you’ve set. I’m to be paraded around as your personal meal next week. Amalthea told me—something you didn’t bother to do.”

“Amalthea said what?” Raphael growled.

“The Tri-Lunar Eclipse. She’d seen you at my neck, despite all your promises to never drink from me again.” Raphael’s lips parted as if to protest, but I continued on before he could interject. “Wasn’t this your plan all along?”

“It was not,” Raphael growled. “I had another plan.”

“Oh?” I nearly snarled the word. “And was this plan to drink from another human and kill them?”

Raphael flinched as if I’d struck him.

But he didn’t deny it.

I shook my head in disbelief. “You were going to kill someone. And you probably weren’t even going to tell me. I’m upset because a human girl was killed, and you were about to do the same thing. So fine, Raphael. Drink from me. Claim my lifeblood if that’s what will save some unlucky human’s life, but know you’re no different than any of the other monsters. The only difference is that you treat me a little better, and the others see me as your pet, so that when they kill a human in their bloodlust, it’s one you don’t have use for.” I broke out of his grip with a tug of my shoulders. “Now, leave so I can get back to being useful, Your Majesty.”

Raphael remained rooted in his spot. “Do you not see that you’re different?”

As if this conversation hadn’t proved he saw me as he did every other worthless mortal, except that I was his. “I’m useful, as we agreed.” I gave the Black Grimoire a pointed look. “So I’d best get back to work.”

Still, Raphael remained. “Have you had success in your translations?” His voice was soft, coaxing.

I didn’t want small talk, but the quickest way to get rid of him was to pretend everything was fine. “It’s slow. Slower than I expected, so I have nothing to show for it. I should get back to it,” I repeated.

Raphael made no move to leave. He wasn’t oblivious. He simply didn’t care.

“By the fifth hell, Raphael, I want to be alone!” Apparently, I wasn’t so good at pretending.

Finally, Raphael moved. We crossed in opposite directions, me moving to the couch where the grimoire was and him towards the door. When he reached the doorframe, he paused.

“I mean it,” I said quietly from across the room. The urge to yell had passed in those few steps and now I could scarcely whisper. But no doubt he would hear every word. “I’ll go with you to the ball. Just leave me be until then.”

Raphael left.

I watched the door for several minutes, as if expecting him to come back.

To apologize? To say he’d find the vampire who murdered the donor and see justice done? To say he’d been wrong about the humans? About me? To say I didn’t need to go to the ball?

I didn’t know what I wanted from Raphael. Worse, I seemed to want everything, and everything was a delusion.

When I, at last, was confident he wasn’t coming back, I opened the grimoire. I’d been lying to Raphael for weeks now. Since I’d translated the opening line and realized it was the key to undoing the vampires, I’d thought of little else. Some parts were hard to interpret—winding prose, detailed origins of the goddess Anagenni, the meaning of death and all other kinds of philosophical dribble that didn’t mean anything concrete.

I slipped out the sheet where I’d translated the first true passage and traced my fingers over the dried ink on the parchment. I’d nearly memorized the words.

The undead bow to the necromancer. One witch is gifted to the world every two hundred years with Anagenni’s blessing. They alone can right the balance.

At first, I’d concluded Raphael must not realize what he had in his possession if he was letting me translate it. In the days since, I’d dismissed the thought. This was why Raphael hunted them. Because vampires weren’t stronger than all witches after all. That was why he’d taken the grimoire, so even if this necromancer rose to power they’d be weak. The book likely gave some hint of who it was or some secrets to their magic the vampires could use against them.

Somewhere out there was a witch who would be able to take on the vampires. To stop them from killing humans as they so pleased.

Once I finished, I planned to help them with the translated grimoire. But the truth was, I had no idea where to look. And every day wasted in searching would cost more lives.

I needed to do something more immediate to make the vampires realize they weren’t so untouchable.

That us weak, breakable mortals could fight back instead of being fodder.

Hours later, when the castle was quiet, I slipped out of my room once more.

That was why I slid a small parchment with one word scribbled on it behind the false rock Titus had shown me.

Yes.

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Chapter Forty-Five

“You’re going to die when you see the dress,” Amalthea declared as she burst through the door the moment I opened it.

An eruption of red engulfed the space between us. I blinked at the color. It was startlingly bright, with layers and layers of skirts in a vibrant red hue.

The exact shade of freshly spilled blood.

Gods, I don’t want to do this.

But time had run out. Tonight was the ceremony.

“They finished not a moment too soon,” Amalthea continued, strolling into my room. “We’ve only hours before the eclipse.” She was comfortable in my space, which made sense since I’d spent most of the past week holed up in my room. I went to training every morning, as instructed, using the practice to exhaust my body and escape the memories. I napped right after, the only decent sleep I got. Sometimes I hoped the music might help chase them away, but I didn’t want to spend any time lingering in the halls before retreating to the safety of my room. Then Amalthea would knock on my door with supper and join me, carefully avoiding the topic she most wanted to discuss: my fight with Raphael. Any time she brought it up, I ended the conversation, so she learned to dance around it while filling the otherwise oppressive silence with lighthearted court gossip. This week, the focus had all been on the eclipse.

Which was tonight.

I swallowed. The last thing I’d said to Raphael was that I would go with him, but I hadn’t heard a word since. A part of me still hoped he wouldn’t take me up on it, would show me it wasn’t as inevitable as Amalthea insisted. But her presence said otherwise.

“Let’s get this over with.” I hoped my vague disinterest would cover the fact the thought of the evening’s ball made me increasingly nervous.

Amalthea gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher and gestured over to the vanity. I scratched my palms, anxious.

Could she see what was coming?

I hadn’t heard back from Titus, but when I caved and checked yesterday, the note was gone. I’d thought he would make a move immediately, but I was waiting in suspense.

And in the interim, I was going to play the role of Raphael’s Chosen in the bloodiest way possible.

Around Amalthea’s side was a satchel of cosmetics. She spilled the contents over the counter, turning each bottle over, looking at me, and then discarding or setting aside the acceptable options until she had picked out a suitable selection for this occasion.

Normally I enjoyed talking with Amalthea, and she was eager to oblige, but both of us were fairly quiet. She murmured directions to me—close my eyes, open them, part my lips, shut them, tilt left, tilt right. Under her direction, my face transformed from plain to striking, with bright red sparkles around my eyelids, and sharp crimson on my lips. She artfully arranged my hair into a swept-up design, pinned in place with a silver ruby clip and ornamented with other jewels. To complete the ensemble, she clipped long, pinching earrings to my lobes.

“Now your dress,” she instructed, pushing me to the bathroom to change. Too tired to argue, I slipped behind closed doors, shucked off my day-wear, and pulled the dress on. Amalthea entered the room and laced the gown, looking at me in the mirror.

This is what the king’s Chosen would wear.

I hardly recognized myself. From my crown to my feet, I was bathed in red. My skin was pink, my face painted. It was as though I appraised a stranger—beautiful, I thought at once. A prize for a vampire.

I wanted to light the dress on fire.

Instead, I thanked Amalthea for everything, for arranging my makeup, for fixing my hair, for seeing the dress through. I thanked her even as I wanted to ask her why this was happening. To ask if her oracle powers could let her look to my past and find where it had all gone so wrong.

“You could come to my room while I finish getting ready,” she offered as she gathered the cosmetics and went to the door.

I stood, awkward in my own space. “No thanks. I think I could use a little quiet before the commotion this evening.”

“It’s a celebration, not a commotion,” she corrected, though I hardly saw the difference. She pressed her back against the door, giving me an understanding smile. “But I thought you’d say that. Raphael will be by in an hour—I’ll see you at the ball. Save me a dance.”

And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her as the lock fell into place.

I exhaled, the corset of the dress suddenly too restrictive for me to inhale properly.

“Women,” said a contemptuous voice behind me.

I bit back a scream at the sound. How?

“Titus.”

Invisible spiders crawled down my spine. It was unnerving to realize someone invisible lurked around you, and a thousand times worse to realize he had been in my bedroom. Amalthea hadn’t had the door open long when she left, which meant he either slipped in at just the right moment… or he’d been here the entire time.

“My, and don’t you sound pleased to see me, Samara.” His voice had moved—not closer, but now at my other side. I forced myself not to flinch, to not give him the satisfaction. “Disappointed your little dress-up adventure was cut short?”

“What do you want?” I demanded.

The king’s spy was in no hurry to answer my questions. “I despise that woman, you know. An abomination. You’d think the worst thing in the world would be being born useless without magic like the voids, but those heretics are worse. And here she is, proving we were right to hunt them down. Betraying her own kind, and for what? To spend hours preening in front of the mirror? Vapid, useless thing. A waste of magic.”

I stiffened at his derogatory tone. I might be working with Titus now, but that didn’t mean I no longer loathed him. “What is your counterproposal?” I cast my arms up theatrically, but really, I was trying to create space around myself so I could maneuver to the bed. The one blessing of this dress was the volume of the skirt gave me at least a little distance from the spy. “She’d be killed in the Witch Kingdom. Who could blame her for surviving?” There was also the fact Amalthea was the furthest thing from vapid I’d ever encountered—and the Witch Kingdom had its share of vapid courtiers. Thea spent hours each day in meetings, when she wasn’t with me. She sat on a number of councils and advised Raphael. Additionally, she was acutely aware of the going-ons at every level of court, not just in aristocratic circles. Maids confided in her, dressmakers gossiped with her. Overbearing? At times. But vapid? Never.

“Then she should have died with dignity before she could shame our entire species,” Titus snapped.

It was the first time his calm veneer had slipped.

Did I score a point? Or did I just make this situation more dangerous for myself?

“You’re so quick to defend her, Samara. It makes me wonder about that little note you wrote me.”

I swallowed, the sensation sharp and ugly. That was why he was here, after all. Of course he hadn’t given me a warning. He enjoyed my fear far too much.

Not for the first time since I’d left the note, a wave of doubt hit me. But it was too late to go back on the plan. If I confessed that for months I’d not only known the Storm-blooded King’s spymaster was in the kingdom but that I’d plotted against Raphael with him?

No matter what his affection, I’d be dead.

And when the memory of that girl came again, the doubt disappeared, replaced by that same, relentless anger that had been growing.

“She dressed you like his little meal.” His voice was closer now. I could smell the sweet almonds on his breath. “No different than putting a shiny red apple in a roast’s mouth.”

The slightest graze of the gossamer that wrapped my arms. I jerked my hand back.

“What do you want?” I demanded once more. “You may be invisible, but Raphael will be here soon, and he’ll hear you. Not being able to see you won’t stop him from following the sound of your heartbeat and ripping your head from your shoulders.”

A pause.

Gods, I wish he would leave. I was beside my bed now, my hand aching to reach for the dagger under the pillow.

Titus had risked a lot to enter my rooms, with all the guards posted in the halls. He wasn’t invincible, no matter how he acted. He wouldn’t have come just to lecture me.

“Are you committed to this cause or not?”

I hesitated. I’d seen the cruelty of vampires firsthand, at every turn in my life. Raphael had condoned their actions.

I owed him nothing.

But still, I hesitated.

A folded piece of parchment fluttered to the floor in front of me, the royal seal stamped on it. I picked it up and opened it. The sprawling script, the golden ink. Exactly as I’d seen it in childhood.

“A pardon, Samara. All your sins forgiven.”

A royal pardon. I could go home.

Wherever that is, part of me chastised.

But that louder part of me craved this. To finally be absolved of guilt and welcomed into the land of humans once more. Once I helped Titus, I would flee with the book and scour the Witch Kingdom without the threat of imprisonment.

The parchment disappeared again as Titus snatched it back. In its place, he set another item.

A card.

Not just any card. The purple edges said this was made by a toximancer, a witch specialized in poisons.

“What am I to do with this?” I made no move to pick it up.

Titus let out an aggrieved sigh, as though he could hardly believe he was still talking to me. “And here your one redeeming feature is you were thought to be clever. It’s a poison card.”

Obviously. “And what do you expect me to do? Use it on Raphael?”

“In a manner of speaking. Such a card would never work on a vampire. Their bodies are too strong. But if he were to ingest it directly, even the demon king himself couldn’t withstand the toxins.”

When he drinks from me.

This was why Titus had seen such an opportunity in me being the king’s Chosen. With me, Raphael was vulnerable in a way he was with no other.

He hasn’t drunk from the source in hundreds of years, Thea had said.

Yet he was to drink from me, just as Thea had seen. He was always meant to. If he was going to take my blood, as so many vampires took from humans in his kingdoms, he deserved this reckoning. Or was I always meant to betray him? Was that why she had seen it? My stomach churned, and I desperately wished for five minutes to think this through. Titus gave me no quarter.

“Besides. Just think what would happen if their kind knew who you really were. They’d hardly be so quick to welcome you, don’t you agree?”

My stomach rolled again. I snatched up the poison card. Such a light thing, between my fingers. Barely the width of my palm. Yet the magic in it was deadly. The symbols on it left no doubt of that.

“What happens after?” I said quietly. “If I help carry out this plan, how will I escape?”

“I’ll help you, of course,” he said soothingly. No doubt that syrup of his voice was meant to make me look past the fact I didn’t trust the spymaster one iota.

No, once I did this, I’d need to find my own way out. I glanced at the grimoire’s hiding spot. I’d need to take that with me. Returning to my rooms would be a foolish move, but there was no other choice. I didn’t trust Titus with it. If the necromancer really could stand against the vampires, they’d need all the help they could get.

“Tick-tock, Samara.”

I activated the card.

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