From him, anyway.
If he found her with her fangs buried in another… just the thought set him on edge.
The way that guard, Larissa, had kept eyeing her, complimenting her; had volunteered to guard her today, a move that had him switching her duties to send her scouting instead.
He had no claim. He was her sire, like he’d told Julian, but that could mean as much or as little as vampires wanted. He wasn’t her king; she wasn’t his Chosen. But he washers, utterly and completely.
Raphael didn’t say any of that to Julian. “That’s all.”
“If that’s all, then perhaps you won’t mind me dancing with her at the ball.”
“Samara is free to dance with anyone she likes,” Raphael said.
She was. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind too much when he ripped the hands off whoever was bold enough to do so afterward.
“I’ll look forward to it, then.” Julian eyed the board, where Raphael had just left his knight vulnerable. “Sloppy.” Disapproval was thick in his voice. “Rethink it. I’ll let you do that move over.”
“There are no do-overs. Even magic doesn’t let us go back in time.” If it did… blood curse him, how different the world would be if Raphael could go back in time and take back one single mistake.
Another piece of Raphael’s was quickly captured.
“You should be more careful with your things,” Julian taunted.
“Like you, with the Witch King promenading through your kingdom?”
That stirred some ire in Julian’s eyes. “I just told you, I dealt with it.”
“And yet, before Phrygia turns again, I’d wager he’ll be back.”
“He’s welcome to try it.” Julian’s voice was lethal and inviting. “Next time, I’ll have the messenger wyvern carry back their drained hearts as souvenirs.” Vampires were predators. They didn’t take kindly to their territory being threatened. No matter what finery Julian or Raphael wore, no matter the crowns on their heads and courts that heeded them, both understood that.
But this witch king had little enough regard for his people that, drained hearts or not, Raphael doubted that would dissuade him.
Julian captured another piece, using his third and fourth fingers to pull it from the board. “So distracted. I’ll have to thank your fledgling for handing me such an easy win.”
Pieces moved more rapidly over the board. Julian was focused on advancing toward Raphael’s king, knocking out Raphael’s knight, remaining cleric, and all his pawns save one. His black marble pieces were sorely outnumbered by Julian’s white ones. Yet…
“So many centuries,” Raphael chided. “And you still can’t see the whole board.”
It only took one piece to change the game. Raphael had brought his remaining pawn all the way to the end of the board. With that, his queen was back in play, right by the back line where Julian’s own king was pinned.
“That’s mate, by the way.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Samara
Demos easily navigated ourjourney to the library. When I asked how often he’d been to the castle, he informed me they came every decade or two. Further questions on how often Raphael had visited—in hopes I might piece together some clue about the letter—were waved away.
With each step, I tensed, waiting for the crippling pain to return, but we reached two massive sandstone doors without so much as a twinge.
Porous stars, with rounded ends and uneven shapes, were molded into the door. The handle, as many others were, was modeled after a conch shell. The guard stationed there opened the door with a slight bow to us.
There were far more people than I expected. Long tables lined either side of the library, with various scholars sprinkled over them. Several eyed me—and the ring on my finger. I straightened my shoulders and walked in.
The library held as many books as Damerel’s, but it was nowhere near as dark. Large windows lined the walls and, as Itilted my head back, I realized even the roof was glass, allowing the light of the three moons to fill the space.
Even bigger was the difference in atmosphere. In both Damerel and the Great Library, conversation was kept to a low hush. Here, groups chatted freely around tables and several spilled into rooms around the perimeter. I quickly cataloged the conversations and realized they hit upon a great many topics: philosophy, science, magic, history, including quick arguments over interpretations of translations that made my lips curl just slightly, remembering how long it had taken me to figure out the way prepositions changed the meaning of words in Old Runyk.
