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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.

Chapter Forty-Six

Raphael arrived at mydoor a scant hour later, and when I opened it, I thought I might cease breathing altogether.

He wore a black silk tunic draped over his shoulders in a wide vee, a stark contrast to his alabaster skin. Red jewels ornamented his skin—his fingers, his shoulders, his chest.

The same, glowing red of his eyes.

The same red as my dress.

An iron crown settled on his brow, menacing spikes that reminded me of vampire fangs. Its fierce, unyielding shape served as a contrast to the luxurious tailoring that engulfed him.

He was otherworldly.

And yet, my dress made me the perfect extension of his outfit.

“Samara. You look…” He trailed off.

I had never known Raphael to be at a loss for words. But there he was, staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“I’m ready,” I said, covering the fact his appearance had rendered me similarly speechless.

“Are you?” Raphael asked.

It was a good thing I was a human and could lie. I nodded.

Raphael extended an arm, and I just stared at it. I’d never actually hooked arms with a suitor. Not that Raphael was anything of the sort to me, not that hecouldever be… but just that crook of an elbow made me ache for the life I could have had.

A life I could still have. With the pardon.

“I don’t believe this tradition is any different in the Witch Kingdom,” he prompted with dry humor.

Despite everything, I wanted to smile at the jest.

I slipped my arm around his and that was all it took. Raphael strode down the hallway, keeping to a pace I could manage in heels. No doubt he heard every fluttering beat of my heart as we grew closer to the ballroom. I hoped he continued to think it was simple nerves, not a warning bell of my betrayal.

Act normal, I willed myself.Just go along with everything and let him bite you when the time is right.

We didn’t go the way I expected. The hallway wrapped around and around as we rose to the very top of Damerel.

The ballroom was different than the one from the welcome ball. There was no staircase to descend from, only two massive twin doors, ornately carved from stone that were thrust open at our arrival, an abrupt trumpet cutting through the din that emanated from the room.