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His grin was serpentine. Patient, but all too satisfied he’d piqued my interest. “You’re the king’s Chosen, girl. You could do the Crown a great service in your role.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but this time I kept silent. Titus sighed, as if annoyed I wasn’t playing the proper role in this conversation.

“You could help me deal a blow to their kingdom. One they wouldn’t recover from.”

Now I couldn’t hold back my cursed curiosity. “What do you intend?”

But as I’d known, spies delighted in withholding information, not sharing it.

“Leave those details to me. But if you did agree, I could return you to the safety of the Witch Kingdom. Not your home, certainly, but I could put you in a village somewhere and ensure no one ever sought you there. Doesn’t that sound lovely? ”

I could go back . No. I shook off the thought, not taking my eyes off Titus for a moment. I couldn’t betray Raphael. Yes, I believed the vampires were evil, but… maybe they weren’t as evil as I always thought. And I certainly didn’t trust Titus. “I just want to be left alone.”

“Left alone? Or left as the vampire king’s pet?” he asked snidely.

I glared but said nothing.

“What a spoiled pet, I suppose. The vampires are so nice to you. Not like the bad ones you knew before… I bet you’ve convinced yourself they’re different .”

His patronizing tone made the hair on my neck bristle.

“You should learn more about your new owners, Samara Koisemi. See more of the mountain. Learn what lies in the rot of their kingdom. And when you can no longer lie to yourself, and remember your true allegiances, I’ll be back.

” He tossed the dagger at my feet. “I’m a wonderful ally, girl.

But remember: The king’s shadowed hand is a terrible enemy to have.

Something your mother should have known. ”

Titus fingered a card at his side and disappeared. Music washed over me, making me acutely aware that it had been absent in the past minutes of our conversation. Had he slowed time, or simply put us in a bubble with some magic?

My mind was divided in two. One part wanted to puzzle through the logistics of what had just happened. How was he here? What was his endgame? Would he follow through on his threats? Should I be helping him?

The other part was screaming, screaming, screaming .

Raphael appeared before me, and I stared through him. He scanned the surroundings, looking for some invisible threat, nostrils flaring. Did he scent Titus’s bitter almond scent, or was the spymaster more careful than that?

The part of my brain that wasn’t screaming, screaming, screaming noted his appearance: the crown on his head that was absent when he joined Amalthea and I for a meal; his clothing elegant, though his clothes were askance, as if he’d run here abruptly.

His chest didn’t heave, not like mine, but his eyes were a bit wild.

When no threat materialized, he reined it in. In any other moment, it would have been fascinating to watch. The way his posture changed, his movements slowed, non-threatening as he approached me. Nothing more concerning than the straightening of his cuffs as he asked, “Is everything alright?”

His voice, low but strong, cut through the panicked haze in my head. Against my will, I swayed slightly.

He crossed the five paces between us immediately and braced my upper arms between his hands.

“Samara.”

His hold was steadying. My skin felt clammy all around, my back suddenly aching like I’d spent three days on my feet. I forced my shoulders down as I steadied while he supported me .

“How’d you get here so quickly?” I asked, still stunned. One moment, Titus had been confronting me. Now, Raphael was in front of me, and I was prepared.

“I sensed something was wrong. Not physically,” he clarified.

Right. The bond.

“Now tell me what aggrieves you.” So I can destroy it . The words went unspoken, but the offer felt as blatant as if he’d said them.

King Stormblood’s spymaster is in your midst and wants me to help him plot against you.

The words caught in my throat. It invited questions—how did I know the spymaster? How did he know me? I didn’t dare answer either. Why hadn’t I mentioned suspecting seeing him at the ball? Raphael might decide I was in league with Titus before I could defend myself.

I was useful to Raphael, and maybe, just maybe, he harbored some affection for me. The vampire king’s pet , Titus had called me. But the creature who had slaughtered dozens on our travel would kill any threat to his kingdom.

I couldn’t tell him.

However much I wanted to trust him and his friends, survival came first. And Titus had reminded me just how precarious that was.

“The… it was the music.”

Raphael cocked his head at me, his grip loosening just slightly. “The music. ”

I swallowed, trying to scrounge up something convincing.

Could he sense that I was lying, or just the anxiety and fear twisting through me?

“I haven’t heard this style of music before.

It’s intense. Loud.” Loud noises were hard; sometimes they reminded me of the screams in Greymere.

There was more than one instrument playing.

One hit the keys with such intensity the walls nearly shook, the other was a mournful string tone that stirred something I wasn’t sure what to do with.

The best lies were rooted in the truth.

“I’ll remove the musicians at once,” he said.

I winced at the thought I’d ruined what was likely a prestigious post from talented musicians.

“It’s not bad,” I clarified. “But what I like about music is it awakens something in me. Sometimes it’s so light and peaceful its foreign after everything.

And sometimes it’s like holding up a mirror that shows my worst memories. ”

Raphael studied my face for another beat. I forced myself to hold his gaze, to not dart my eyes to the corner like I ached to do.

Then he lowered to his knees in front of me. I tried to jolt back, but he caught my fingers in his hand before I moved far.

He lifted a blade between us—my cursed bronze blade. It had been between my feet where Titus had thrown it. Where it made no sense of being if I was simply listening to music like I’d claimed .

But Raphael didn’t call me on the obvious lie. “You dropped this,” was all he said.

Blisters were already forming on his palm as he wrapped my fingers around it, pressing my palm into a firm grip.

I clenched the blade like a lifeline.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “For coming.”

Raphael slowly let go, his burned fingers trailing over the back of my hand before dropping to his side.

“Of course.”