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Right over to us.

“You found us quickly,” Amalthea grumbled, finishing off her first glass of wine.

Raphael slid into the seat next to me, his body sprawling. His arm came around the back of my chair, not quitetouching me, but close enough if I leaned back it would be. “Demos sent word before you left.”

The witch’s expression would have turned a lesser vampire to ash. Her sweet face looked so fearsome I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked softly, while Amalthea and Demos got into another argument over nothing.

Because of the bond, I was sure he could feel the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside me. But something in me had relaxed, just slightly, the moment he’d walked in. As if instinctively, I accepted I was completely safe. “Yes.”

Suddenly, a cry went up in the room. “A round of drinks on the house, to honor King Raphael keeping the kingdom safe from the scourge yet again!”

The scourge.I twisted away from Raphael to study the speaker. The bartender, a stout woman with large biceps, hefted four mugs in each hand, liquid sloshing inside them. A cheer went up and the free alcohol was quickly distributed. Around us, mugs clinked together. A serving girl brought our table a fresh round, including two towering mugs of non-blood ale for Amalthea and me.

“Water,” he told the serving girl, who nodded with vampiric speed.

Demos regaled Raphael with the story of how we’d wound up here, and the look Raphael gave me when he heard how I swept Amalthea’s leg… some long-forgotten embers of pride glowed in my chest. Before long, it was the general and witch volleying back and forth while Raphael and I listened. The waitress brought back a glass of icy water for me, and I took a large gulp, relishing the cool liquid. The bar wasn’t uncomfortably stuffy, but I’d grown much warmer since Raphael had filled the seat next to me.

“I have a question for you,” Raphael said, while the two were immersed in a debate over some recent political debacle.

“A question for a question.”

“Deal. Why do you not partake in drink?”

The untouched ale and wine were still in front of me. I ran my fingers over the rim of one, trying to gather my thoughts. “Shipments would come to Greymere each month. When they included liquors, fights would break out over them. Nelson—the one who found us when we escaped—he was nasty. Cruel. Petty. Since he was also in charge, he always got at least one bottle. He’d drink the whole thing down. It was understandable. No one wanted to be in Greymere, exactly, but not all the servants were sentenced like I was. Sometimes it was a good way to dispose of an unwanted noble son, like in Nelson’s case.” He’d been arrogant. Thought himself better than the rest of us and never let us forget it. “He’d drink a whole bottle in a night, and it would change him. Instead of being so ornery and nasty, he was…nice.” I dripped the syllable in every ounce of derision I could. I remembered the first time I’d been around, as a child. I’d learned to hide better when he got like that. “I associate it with him. Thatdrunken, out-of-control bumbling. I never want to beanythinglike him.”

Raphael was silent for a moment. I kept my gaze trained on the glass in front of me, not meeting his gaze.

“You couldneverbe anything like him.”

“You didn’t know him,” I countered.

“I know his type. And all the liquor in the world couldn’t malform you like that.” A pause. “I’m not saying you have to drink. But if you wanted to indulge, I would watch over you.”

I twisted my lips. “It doesn’t exactly seem pleasant.”

Raphael shrugged. “At its most extreme, it’s not. But many enjoy it in moderation. Even if you wind up knowing you don’t like it, it’s a shame to let one bastard—who was a bastard sober, from the sound of it—take away part of life.”

That was Raphael, always able to cut to the heart of the matter so quickly. Was I being unfair to myself by refusing to submit to any pleasure out of fear? I wrapped my fingers around the stem of the glass, tipping it towards me. The pale-yellow liquid caught the lights of the tavern, a vaguely citric smell wafting over.

Finally, I looked at the vampire king. “You’ll watch over me if I drink?”

“I’ll always watch over you.”

I took a sip.

The world didn’t end. My mouth tingled slightly at the sensation, adjusting. “I don’t feel any different.”

“A child wouldn’t even feel that little,” he teased.

So I took another sip. More confident this time. Then a third as I realized I did like the taste. I didn’t rush to drain the glass, but soon enough it was finished. I joined in to break up the latest fight between Amalthea and Demos—apparently, the two even had opposite opinions on appropriate bathing temperatures.

“Does it matter as long as you can take a bath?” I interjected. “I went twelve years without being able to.”

“You certainly smelled like it,” Raphael added, nostrils flaring in memory.

“Just as well, so you wouldn’t want to bite me. Vampires aresosensitive.”