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When I opened them, Raphael’s gaze was fixed on me. There was something new to his expression, something I had seen only a hint of once or twice, like when I ate the rabbit. I swallowed again, nothing but my own worries.

He parted his lips like he was considering saying something, but held back.

I certainly wasn’t going to ask. The single morsel of food had awakened my hunger, and I had to fight the urge to tip the bowl to my lips and drink it down before someone could take it away.

My mother’s many hours of training prevailed. I took another small sip to my lips. I was eating faster than she would’ve approved of, but, well, she wouldn’t have approved of me breaking bread with a vampire. And she was dead, so she couldn’t havean opinion.

From the soup, I moved to the roast dinner. I’d insisted I’d lost my appetite, but I made quick work of the plate, polishing off even the vegetables I’d disdained as a child.

My stomach cramped from the sudden influx of food. But still I eyed the dessert.

It would be stupid to eat it. Dessert would hardly sustain me on the rest of our trip. I might well lose all the food if I ate it.

But it was hard to look away. The crust was golden, beckoning me. I put my fork down with a slight clang, pushing the plate away.

We sat for a while as the food settled in me.We should leave,I realized distantly. We had the essentials we’d come for.

Raphael rolled his eyes at me. “Oh, just eat it.”

I flushed at the mocking gesture. “It’s fine. I don’t need it.”

“No oneneedspie. But you’ve been making eyes at it since the barmaid brought it over. Youwantit.”

I did. I hated that Raphael saw it so easily.

“No. I don’t.” I pushed my palms onto the table and stood, leaving payment on the table. Raphael rose, and mercifully didn’t say another comment about the slice of pie. Even though I was full, the gluttonous part of me wanted to turn back and eat it. Dessert wasn’t a word that was even whispered in Greymere, the taste of sugar and sweets from childhood something found only in thecruelest dreams. How would reality compare? Was it as glorious as I remembered?

Raphael would know. And if there was anything worse than going without, it was others knowing that you wanted more.

“We’re just a few days’s walk from the city,” I told him as we left the tavern. With the cards I’d secured, our trip would be a bit easier.

“Oh, we won’t be walking.”

I frowned. “We won’t?”

“No. We’re going to steal some horses.”

Chapter Ten

Raphael’s plan was simple:Find a couple of horses and take them. Enthrall anyone who dared protest.

Or kill them, he offered. If I’d “prefer.”

The tavern itself was our best bet, with a stable at the side. The town didn’t have a wide array of horses to steal from. This late, most locals had left for home and taken their mounts with them. In the tavern stable, only two horses remained.

One was a fine black stallion with broad shoulders. His ears flicked forward and back as Raphael strolled into the barn. Me, I followed after, scanning for any stable hand. It was late enough that whoever worked here had likely gone to sleep.

The other was an older horse. His eyes drooped, tail not so much as swishing as we walked by. It would be faster to walk than to ride the old mount.

“We should look for another,” I said quietly.

“And hope the one good horse is still here when we return? No. The one will suffice,” Raphael declared.

He moved into the stall like it was his own stable, drawing the tack from its resting spot and expertly strapping the gear to the horse. I watched awkwardly, shifting on my feet. He was so comfortable with it. Perhaps he’d been a stable hand before he turned vampire.

It doesn’t matter what he was before. He’s a monsternow.

Proving my point, Raphael drew himself onto the horse with preternatural ease. He strode out of the stall and lowered a hand to me.