“There.” I jerked my chin toward the grand staircase. “When I came in. You may act like you rescued me, but really you let them all swarm me.”
I wasn’t sure why it hurt. He had violated me beyond measure, turning me to a vampire, and yet what hurt was that he hadn’t held his arm out, reassuring me, as I entered this world.
“You don’t need me to rescue you, Samara. But any time you wish, I will do so.” He spun me, the words scarcely landing as the air brushed around me. “If I had been your escort, that’s all they would see you as—an extension of me. And we both know that’s not true. If you stay in this court, you will build your ownalliances, your own enemies. Your place is not, and has never been, in my shadow.”
Was that true? Had he abandoned me not to hurt me, but to build my standing in this vicious society?
“It would have been good to know I should expect a change,” I muttered. I apparently lacked the grace to acknowledge I’d been so wrong about his intentions.
“You’re the one who made it clear you don’t wish to be my Chosen,” Raphael reminded me. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
His Chosen. I huffed, ready with another denial, then the song ended and Raphael stopped moving.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, cutting off my next no-doubt repetitive protest. Though he had no body heat, I suddenly felt a chill when he stepped away.
I spotted his target immediately. Iademos stood at the perimeter, glaring at me over Raphael’s shoulder. All was still unforgiven, clearly. What did Demos want?
“May I have this dance, Lady Samara?” a voice said, cutting my questions off.
A vampiress offered her hand. She was taller than me wearing a wide-necked gown that draped from her shoulders.
You’ll build your own alliances, your own enemies.
Raphael was wrong. They were all my enemies. But I’d continue to play the part, to learn.
“Yes.”
The female flashed me a victorious smile and led me into another dance. Her closeness did nothing to chase away the chill left by Raphael’s departure. She attempted to make conversation while we danced, but she soon discovered, despite my elevated status as the king’s sired fledgling, that I was a terrible conversation partner. I spent the entire dance looking over her shoulder, trying to see where Raphael had disappeared.
When the dance ended, another dance partner appeared. Then another. I should have taken the chance to try to tap into my necromancer powers, but I was too preoccupied with Raphael. And thirsty, so thirsty. It was ever present, but tonight it was even worse.
“Are you well, Lady Samara?” asked my latest partner—Wilfred or something.
“I suppose I’m parched,” I said as mildly as I could while my fangs scraped my lips.
His eyes widened. “Oh! Shall we head somewhere more . . . private?”
I stumbled a step, slamming my foot on top of his. He didn’t flinch. “What?”
He blinked. “Oh. I didn’t mean to presume, but normally if a vampire says that . . .”
I wanted to die—again. Apparently, for vampires, that was akin to flirting. Something I didn’t even know how to do with humans.
And never would.
“What I meant was I would like to sample some of the blood mead,” I clarified.Likewasn’t the perfect word, but it was true enough I could say it.
He nodded vigorously. “Of course. I’ll fetch us some.”
Fetchingapparently referred to flicking his fingers at one of the servants so two crystal-stemmed glasses appeared on a tray next to us a moment later. Wilfred took both and offered me one.
I drained it before he took so much as a sip, swallowing every drop of the bile.
Then I took his, too, and drained it dry.
Chapter Fifteen
Amalthea
