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I gaped at Amalthea. “What?”

“What have you done now, Thea?”

I flinched at the sudden sound of Iademos’s voice. He’d returned carrying a tray of tea and biscuits, and I hadn’t heard so much as the packed dirt crunch under his boots.

He set the tray between us and leaned against the wall. There was enough space to sit, but I was thankful. He could clearly sense how uncomfortable I was and was giving me some distance.

But my discomfort was overwhelmed by the sheer number of questions threatening to bubble over.

“What do you mean? He can feel what I feel because he drank my blood? ”

“Well, yes,” Amalthea said.

“Thea, it’s not for us to tell her this.”

“It’s my blood, so I certainly think I’m entitled to know what it means,” I snapped.

She looked between me and Iademos. “You have a point. It’s simple, when King Raphael drinks someone’s blood, a link is formed. He’ll be able to sense your emotions for the rest of your life.”

“Is that how it works for all vampires?” Gods, the taking of blood was an invasion, but this was beyond any horror I’d imagine.

“No, not at all. Very few vampires have that ability. I understand it’s rather overwhelming, given how much vampires drink.

He’s not taken from the source in over a hundred years.

” She paused, gauging the effect of her words on me.

“And those he’d taken in the past out of necessity, he killed shortly after so he wouldn’t be bothered. ”

My skin turned to ice.

“Biscuit?” she offered.

I took the biscuit. Then I ate three more after the first made me acutely aware of how hungry I was.

“If Raphael is going to kill me because of my pesky emotions, I might as well die with a full stomach.” Crumbs sputtered at the corner of my mouth around the words, any semblance of manners forgotten.

Amalthea’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, no. I’m sure he wouldn’t. ”

I wasn’t. Right now, he needed me to translate the grimoire, or so he claimed. But a few months or years from now? When he was sick of being bombarded with my fear and stress and all those pesky mortal emotions?

But I’d ask Raphael directly about it later. There had to be a way to sever the link… besides the obvious. Him not mentioning it had to be deliberate though. If it was easy to sever whatever bond had formed, he’d have done so by now. Right?

“Now, where were we?” Amalthea said, obviously eager to change the subject.

“Before mentioning Raphael’s killed every human whose blood he drank, you were telling me the vampires and humans coexist peacefully.”

The witch winced. “I’m not saying there’s never any… friction. But generally, yes, it’s peaceful. The vampires here aren’t starving by any means, so there’s little danger from them. Feeding tends to occur only from donors.”

I frowned. “Donors?”

“Humans who offer up their blood to vampires,” she clarified.

I jerked back. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“For gold, mainly,” Amalthea explained. “There are many jobs open to humans here, but since blood donating is one thing vampires can’t do, it’s a lucrative avenue. From my understanding, it can be pleasurable work.”

The memory of Raphael’s fangs buried in my neck and the sensations it brought burned through me once more. I drained my teacup to the dregs, desperate for anything else to focus on.

“Ready to train, then?” she asked as I set the cup back down on the platter.

I stood. “Please.”

But Amalthea didn’t stand with me. Instead, Iademos pushed off the wall.

I hadn’t forgotten the vampire was there, not quite, but I’d managed to relax temporarily. Now, I squared my shoulders and unsheathed the dagger. I doubted I’d be able to even scratch the vampire with it if I tried. Gods, I hated being weak.

Raphael trusts him . I tried to repeat the words enough to calm myself, but I had no doubt the vampire heard every quickening beat.

“You won’t be using that today,” the vampire said. At my confused look, he explained, “For one, you’re liable to cut yourself with it without training.”

“And for another?” I asked.

“It’s a cursed copper alloy, which means in the extremely unlikely event you struck me with it, it would… prick. Use this instead.” He walked to the rack of weapons and tossed me a short wooden blade. I scrambled—and failed—to catch it.

“We have our work cut out for us,” Iademos said dryly.

I glared.

He grinned. “That’s better. Can’t fight off enemies if your tail is tucked betwixt your legs. ”

I didn’t believe it was possible for me to tolerate a vampire besides Raphael, but Iademos almost made me question that belief. He was relaxed, and careful to give me space. He wasn’t treating me like I was prey or overly delicate.

He took a practice dagger for himself and flipped it in his hands, waiting for me to settle my grip on the training stick he’d thrown my way.

“A dagger’s not a great weapon if you’re in a head-on confrontation.

It doesn’t have the reach of a sword, but it also doesn’t require the muscles or years of training.

” That explained why Raphael had picked it for me.

From the looks of the larger practice swords, I’d struggle to lift one, let alone defend myself with it.

“What’s good is that you can use it to maneuver when your opponent is close and surprise them.

With your size and sex, you’ll be underestimated in just about any fight—which is the male’s fault ,” he emphasized after Amalthea made an annoyed sound, “not yours.”

I wasn’t offended by blunt lessons. I’d learned at a young age just how much of a liability being a girl could be, and I’d learned since then that I would use any tool available to me to survive.

“We’ll make sure to use it to your advantage,” he continued. “Now, I’m going to show you the basics.”

So the general did. From a distance. He demonstrated and ran me through several drills. He always stayed within my line of sight, avoiding sudden movements. I was grateful for that, even if I likely would have benefited from more corrections.

The hours passed. A thin sheen of sweat coated my forehead, my body exhausted from the repetitive movements, but I was determined to practice without complaint.

I’d spent a lifetime wishing for protection in different forms—in magic, in my mother, in the Monastery—and I was tired of it.

For the past weeks, I’d relied on a vampire to keep me safe.

And Raphael had, but Raphael wouldn’t always be there, and more than that, I didn’t want to need his protection.

In a few weeks or months, however long it took to translate the grimoire, I’d be setting off into an unknown territory.

I needed to stop looking outwardly and start building my own defenses.

So even though my shoulder was on fire, my wrist aching from the abrupt use, I continued.

It was Amalthea who finally said it was enough.

“I can keep going,” I said quickly. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Iademos shook his head. “As much as I hate to say it, Thea is right. Overdo it and you won’t be able to move your arms tomorrow.”

I was unprepared for the disappointment that pierced me. Even though they had a point, it felt like a failure.

“Each day, Amalthea or I will work with you on building strength. A dagger may not require the strength of a broadsword, but you still need some muscle to pierce the skin.” He ran his gaze up and down, but there was nothing to it beyond a blunt appraisal.

“We’ll have you ready to carve the hearts of vampires out in no time,” Amalthea assured me, the bloodthirsty promise leaving her lips with a smile. “But you and I have another trial ahead of us.”

I put the practice dagger back on the stand. “We do?”

“We do,” she confirmed. “We have a ball to get ready for.”