“I hadn’t fully considered that angle,” Raphael finally conceded.
My shoulders didn’t sag; they collapsed with relief. “You’ll undo it, then?”
“No. You will.”
“Raphael, she’s too young,” Demos interjected.
His objection was summarily ignored. “Overpower my compulsion so she retains her memories here. But she must be bound not to let anyone know, by word or deed, what we came here for. This is for your safety, as Iademos rather obviously stated. This is a skill that should have been learned weeks ago within the boundaries of my own kingdom, and the fact that it wasn’t is gossip fools will pay handily for.”
Overpower Raphael’s thrall? Was it possible?
Demos didn’t think so.
But I was the necromancer. Did that give me a power even greater than a vampire king’s?
I hesitated. If I did this, and I wasn’t supposed to be able to—if this was a test of Raphael’s to show me the difference in our power—it might be risking my identity.
If he discovered I was the necromancer, he’d kill me the way he had the last three.
But if I didn’t—if I let Flo’s memories be tampered with, what then? What would her mind conjure to fill in the gaps?
If I chose my potential safety over her terror, did that make me any better?
“Well?” Raphael prodded when I hesitated.
“I’ll… try.”
Raphael stepped aside, and I looked into Flo’s eyes once more. She startled, as if she hadn’t expected to see anyone here.
“Who are you?” she asked, confused.
“Flo, you know me as Samantha. We’ve been in your wagon.”
She frowned. “I do?”
“You do. I came here with two other male vampires. Do you remember?”
She shook her head.
“Try to remember.”
Flo’s brows furrowed, her lips pursed. “I really don’t.”
“Try harder,” I said.
Flo’s face scrunched even more. Her arm began to shake.
“Failing to act on a compulsion is distressing,” Demos said. “If you want to grant her mercy, let Raphael—”
“Patience,” Raphael said. “Remember what you want, Samara.”
What I wanted.
“Flo, I want you to relax and remember the past hour. The way you made a deal to let me thrall you, nothing dangerous, and how we practiced. Can you do that for me?”
Both Flo’s arms were shaking now. But her eyes grew unfocused, the way they looked under thrall, but not distressed. “I remember now. You knocked and offered me silver for discretion.”
I wanted to collapse in relief. “Yes, exactly. I want you to keep those memories, but it’s important that you don’t tell anyone. Just like the discretion you already agreed on—by neither wordnor deed will you let anyone know we came here to practice my compulsion abilities. Do you understand?”
