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The conversation dripped in cultural innuendos I lacked context for. The focus drifted back to politics, and eventually, the two females were replaced by others, all attempting to curry favor with the returned king. There was no more time for Raphael and me to talk, and I found I missed the comfort that small talk had offered.

At least, I could have used the distraction. Without it, my mind kept returning to the human servant from before, unable to relax.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Someone jiggled the doorknobof my room the next morning.Intruder. My body stiffened at the thought.Someone is trying to get in.

“Samara?”

Thea. It was only Amalthea. I slid the Black Grimoire off my lap and shut the heavy tome, trailing my fingers over it.

“Coming!” I called through the heavy wooden door. I untucked the chair from the handle and slid away the desk I’d set to reinforce it. Finally, I twisted the key and unlocked the door.

Amalthea cast a curious glance at the pile of furniture as she stepped inside. “Redecorating?” sheasked lightly.

I tried to smile. She didn’t give me reassurances I wouldn’t believe, and I was thankful.

“I didn’t mean to barge in on you, but I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast with me before training.”

“That would be nice.” I meant to sound warm and sincere, mirroring the witch’s tone, but instead I sounded stupefied. I’d slept fitfully after the ball and finally gave up on sleep sometime in the early hours. It hadn’t occurred to me anyone would offer to have breakfast with me. “I got distracted trying to read that.” I pointed to the grimoire.

Amalthea’s gaze followed my gesture. Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re readingthatbook?”

“Trying,” I grumbled. The truth was, I barely remembered the shape of the common runes in Old Runyk, let alone the meaning. They were similar to the common tongue, but the sounds assigned to half the letters were different, the diphthongs a mess, and I struggled to so much as write my name in it let alone understand a magical book. “Raphael mentioned there’s a library that might help?”

“Raphael. Raphael wanted you to translatethatbook?” It was the second time she’d said that as if she meant to put several expletives after it. “By the sixth hell, where did you even find that thing?”

I frowned at her. “The marshes. Given that it’s what he went all the way to the Witch Kingdom to seek out, it only makes sense we brought it back. The whole reason I’m here is because he offered me a thousand gold piecesto translate it.” A task I wasn’t sure I was up to, based on my limited success this morning.

But I wanted to succeed. Was determined to.

Amalthea shifted on her feet like she didn’t even want to be in the same room as the grimoire. She didn’t immediately correct me or agree with me, which meant one thing: She was keeping something from me and weighing how much to share. A cutting reminder that even though she had been all smiles while we dressed the night before, we weren’t confidants.

“Amalthea, what were you and everyone expecting Raphael to do while he went to the Witch Kingdom?” I waited a beat, and when she stayed silent, I pressed on: “Raphael said he was looking for something and wound up in Greymere, and I assumed it was due to bad information. But you’re a seer—if he has you guiding him to the grimoire, he shouldn’t be at risk of that. And last night, a noble mentioned something about an ‘abomination.’” I let the words hang. I could believe Lazarus didn’t know the truth, but Raphael had said himself he trusted Amalthea. Besides, wouldn’t he have at least consulted his court seer before setting off?

Still, Amalthea said nothing. She simply stood there, arms crossed protectively over her abdomen, not meeting my gaze.

My throat stiffened, all at once swollen by hurt and frustration.

“I think I’ll take breakfast alone.” I turned back to the settee.

Thea grabbed my wrist. “Wait.”

I turned back, and she pulled me across the room to sit by the fire. Her gaze flickered back between the grimoire and me. “You’re correct about several things. Raphael did go to Greymere based on the information I gave him, but it wasn’t about the Black Grimoire. I can’t even find that book with my sight. It’s cloaked in too many centuries of magic for a single seer to find. Frankly, I’m confused as to what he even wants with it—vampires and witches alike are loath to be around it. It gives me the creeps just being in the room. If anyone knew Raphael had it in his possession, that he’d actually sought it out, there would be questions.”

Questions from whom?“But that doesn’t tell me what you sent him looking for.”

“Right. There’s a creature that appears every few hundred years. Mortal enemy to the vampires. Raphael isn’t just king because he’s strong—he’s king because when this creature appears, he hunts it down and guarantees the safety of all Vampire Kingdoms.”

A creature that vampires were scared of… either I should be scared of it too, or I should hope Raphael was unsuccessful in finding it. But it was clear from Thea’s tone she believed in whatever mission Raphael had been on.

“Sam, the truth is, I’m at a loss about what to think now that the book is in Damerel, and Raphael isn’t answering any of my questions either.” She heaved a sigh. “Now, canwe please get breakfast? We can go to the library after and get all the dusty old tomes you like—but don’t tell them what you’re working on.”

I stood reluctantly, looking back at the grimoire which still beckoned from the opposite end of the room.

“Sam, I promise no one wants to be near that book.”

“Alright,” I agreed.