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Bertha clearly had no safe way to answer. She thought I wanted retribution, so she’d piled on as many horrors as she could manage. Telling me she wouldn’t do anything went against all she knew.

“Of course, I am responsible for my staff.” Her voice was considerably quieter now. “I will also submit myself to the will of the king. Even if he wishes to flay me—”

I winced because my back still bore the scars of those memories.

I cut her off: “None of that is going to happen. It was an accident. What’s your name?” I asked the girl.

“J-Josephine,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Josephine apologized. Amalthea healed me. That’s all there is to it. There will be no beating, no defanging, no firing, no flaying. Is that understood?” I wasn’t sure where this imperious tone had come from. Gods knew I’d never spoken for myself that way, but seeing Josephine… I straightened my spine as I stared at the shopkeeper.

“Of course,” the shopkeeper said with considerably less enthusiasm than what she’d used to describe the punishment.

I’d have been more skeptical, but vampires couldn’t lie.

“What are you all ogling at?” Amalthea snapped. I turned and saw every vampire was staring at me with thatsame stillness, the scent of my blood drawing their attention. I hadn’t noticed, being so focused on the girl. “It’s as though you ladies have never smelled blood before. Go to a blood den and stop acting like fools.”

The onlookers collectively turned away at Amalthea’s command.

I wanted to go home, but I had a point to prove. “Josephine, would you mind finishing pinning the hemline?”

Josephine’s head bobbed up and down with vampiric speed. “At once, my lady!”

As much as I wanted to leave, I wouldn’t let the shop owner blame Josephine for us leaving sooner than planned. I cast Amalthea a look to try to gauge what she thought of how I’d handled it, if I’d overstepped, but I couldn’t read the expression on her face.

“It will be magnificent,” the shopkeeper assured me when the draping was finished. I dipped my head in acknowledgment and finally stepped off the platform. Despite my brave front, I hadn’t wanted vampire fingers on my skin any longer. I went behind the curtain and pulled on my dress from before. When I returned, a trio of vampire nobles tittered on the edges, eyeing me.

I looked from them to Amalthea, who heaved a beleaguered sigh before slightly turning her body towards them while still maintaining eye contact with me. “Ladies, surely you have better things to do than blatantly gossip all day.”

“Perhaps we only wanted to get a glimpse at the fashion the king’s Chosen has selected,” one vampiress retorted.

“Perhaps,” Amalthea echoed.

Perhapswas an easy enough way around their inability to lie.

“I’m sure it’s nothing more interesting than any other ballgown,” I said, coming to Amalthea’s side. It was a little dismissive of Bertha, but I wasn’t exactly feeling charitable.

“Is that not the gown she will wear for the Tri-Lunar Eclipse?” the same vampire said. She responded to Thea, not me, however.

The term… I’d heard it before. At the first ball. The vampire that had clung a little too closely to Raphael had mentioned the same event. Amalthea cut the conversation off by hooking my arm with hers and leading us from the shop. Once we had gone half a block, I finally asked her for details.

“Why is everyone so focused on me attending the Tri-Lunar Eclipse?”

Thea wove us expertly through the crowded streets. It was the middle of the night, which was effectively midday for vampires. “Whois everyone? Those ninnies?”

Okay, everyone was an exaggeration. But I spoke to hardly any vampires, and twice now it had come up. “Them, others,” I said vaguely. “It seems important.”

“It is,” Thea admitted slowly, still shepherding me along. “It’s a rare event. Eclipses hold particular significance in vampire culture, and the tri-lunarone is rare enough it’s seen as quite the event. There’s a whole assortment of customs, speeches given, and so on. Honestly, I think the vampires just want something to make a fuss about given their overly long lives.”

It sounded like any other ball. But there was something a littletoocasual about her explanation. “That doesn’t explain why they’re so focused on me specifically,” I pressed.

Thea didn’t seem to want to answer based on the long pause before she spoke again. “As I said, there are customs. And one of them revolves around the king drinking from his Chosen. There’s a whole lot to do with the symbol of power, prosperity, and on and on.”

I stopped in the middle of the street, feet suddenly rooted in the spot. Thea halted abruptly with me since we still had our arms linked. “Raphael intends to drink from me? At this ceremony?”

“Itisthe custom,” Amalthea said, voice carefully neutral. “Besides, being bitten isn’t unpleasant, is it?”

I flushed. Worse than that, it was the opposite. “Raphael never said anything about this when he decided to claim me as his Chosen.” He’d told me he wouldn’t drink from me. But now he’d put me in a position where he had to. “If those are the terms, he should justunclaim me.”