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“Better,” Demos said. “Again.”

I nodded and lunged for the training dummy again.

It had been three weeks since I’d had my cycle.

I’d reluctantly rested, as instructed, and the moment Charlotte cleared me to resume exercise I’d thrown myself into it with renewed vigor.

I was determined to train my body, especially since Raphael categorically refused to work with me on the mental training.

It’s a safety precaution , he’d said. It’s better for me to know if you’re in pain or afraid .

I didn’t agree. It was better for my fears to be my own, not exposed to a vampire who might tire of them at any moment. Which was why when I stabbed the training dummy for the twentieth time that morning, I was picturing a certain vampire king.

“Sam, you keep that up and the poor thing won’t be able to have any training-bag-children,” Amalthea called from the sidelines after I landed a rather low blow.

I took that as praise and readied for another swipe.

I was so, so tired of being weak. I was getting stronger, physically at least. Amalthea had gifted me new training leathers just last week, after my body no longer fit comfortably into the old ones.

My ribs were covered in a layer of fat and muscle, my fists no longer shaking as the punches lacked any weight.

But even as I viciously attacked the training dummy, I knew the anger that fueled me was simply a cover for fear.

An inanimate opponent was one thing. A bigger, stronger opponent was another.

The shame of how easily Titus had disarmed me lingered.

I hadn’t gone back to the alcove to listen to the music since.

Each day, on the way back from training, I wandered near, wishing I was braver.

Wrapping myself in the music made me feel so alive, so free.

But now when I thought of being there, all I could picture was Titus and his threats.

I studied in my room, my dagger never more than an arm’s distance away.

“Let’s take a break,” Iademos announced.

“I can keep going.”

I wanted to keep going. Wanted to stop being so godsdamned weak.

“You say that every day,” he chided. It was true. “Your body needs rest as much as it needs exercise.”

Fine. I returned my training dagger to the rack, and we joined Amalthea for lunch. Today, it was a tray of sandwiches filled with things like cured meat, scrambled kobold eggs, vegetables, and a succulent spread. Demos, of course, didn’t partake. More pity him.

While we ate, Amalthea regaled us both with the latest court gossip. Unlike the solitary life I’d carved for myself, Amalthea spent her evenings around various members of vampire society, attending dinners, soirées, and, last night, gambling parties.

“I can’t believe they let you play,” Demos grumbled.

“Are you suggesting I cheat?” Amalthea retorted primly.

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” he replied.

She slammed her plate down in indignation. “I’ll have you know, even if I didn’t cheat, I would win.”

“So… you do cheat?” I asked.

She shifted her ireful gaze towards me. “Not you too.”

“That’s not a denial,” Demos pointed out.

“Is it cheating when they listen to my heartbeat to try to figure out if I’m nervous? Or stay utterly still when a mortal would at least fidget? Of course not. So using my gifts isn’t cheating.”

Demos rolled his eyes. “Who did you fleece this time?”

“Lazarus. He had it coming.”

Lazarus. I remembered the name. The vampire from the ball, the one who mentioned the abomination.

Thinking of the ball made me think of Titus, and thinking of Titus made me remember his taunt—that I didn’t know enough about the Vampire Kingdom.

That I let them treat me like a pet, never to be taken out.

Goading words, but there was a grain of truth.

I’d barely seen a fraction of the castle—what did I really know about Damerel? What did I want to know?

I wasn’t going to be here for long. I was getting close to finishing the first part of the grimoire.

And yet I could still hear Titus’s voice: You should learn more about your new owners, Samara Koisemi. See more of the mountain.

“I… I’d like to see more of the city,” I said, interrupting the current bickering between Demos and Amalthea.

Both turned to me, and I shrank, my shoulders curling in on reflex.

“What changed?” Amalthea asked. “You’ve declined every other invitation I’d given you.”

That was true. Because Amalthea’s invitations involved spending an evening in fine dresses that didn’t quite fit around vampire nobles, and I’d prefer an evening solving the mysteries of the Black Grimoire any day over that. “I didn’t say I wanted to talk to anyone. Just… see what it’s like.”

And just like that, Amalthea was won over. “You couldn’t have a better tour guide. Let’s get out of here.”

Demos grabbed the witch’s wrist as she sprang up. Unlike me, she didn’t stiffen at the contact, just glared back. “ Not so fast. Do you really think Raphael wants her wandering around? She’s the king’s Chosen.”

“She’s the king’s Chosen, so if she wants to parade naked down Main Street, she damn well can,” Amalthea retorted.

“You’ve been tutoring her for weeks. Do you have so little faith in your skills to think even if she was attacked, even if we weren’t glued to her side, she couldn’t fend off an attacker? ”

She was quickly regretting her request. “Guys—”

“Fine,” Demos snapped, looking at me. “You can go. If you beat Amalthea in a sparring match. Thea, no going easy on Sam.”

“Fine. Sam, let’s do this.” She jerked out of his grip and marched over to the weapons rack and plucked up a random short sword.

“I said no going easy. Take the staff.”

Amalthea’s sound of exasperation carried as she dropped the training sword and picked up a wooden staff.

I hadn’t fought against one of those yet.

She turned back, and for the first time I realized she was in a loose blouse and trousers instead of her usual ornately embroidered dresses.

Fashionable for training clothes, but still…

different. Had she known this was coming?

I didn’t have time to process the implication, because Amalthea had grabbed my usual practice weapon and tossed it to me.

Actually, it wasn’t going to me, but was aimed squarely at Demos’s head. He snatched it from the air with vampire reflexes and extended it to me, hilt first .

“Oops. Guess my aim is a little off.”

“Enough playing,” Demos groused.

Her staff was a little taller than she was, her feet already in a fighting stance while she maneuvered the stave in quick circles.

I stood reluctantly, no longer so confident in the skills I’d learned.

Drills were one thing, but I hadn’t attempted any kind of sparring yet. “Demos, I don’t think I can win.”

“You may not,” he agreed.

Well, wasn’t that comforting?

“But if you already have doubts, you’ve lost before you’ve begun,” he continued.

“Amalthea is good with a staff, but she’s rusty.

She rarely practices, because with her foresight, she rightfully reasons she can avoid almost any deadly confrontation.

But that will give you an edge. You’re smaller, faster.

A staff gives her reach, so you’ll have to get in close.

Just remember, the dagger isn’t your only weapon.

Even if she does win, it’ll be good practice. ”

He gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and shoved me forward. I stumbled, trying to find my balance. It was the first time he’d touched me outside of the slight corrections of my form.

“Ready?” she asked.

No . “Yes.”

“First to a killing blow wins. Begin,” Demos said.

Amalthea lunged for me. I barely managed to clumsily shift out of the way in time to right myself as her staff jabbed at me again.

Amalthea might cheat at cards, but it became immediately apparent she wasn’t about to go easy on me.

She was relentless, and all I could do was move back, trying to avoid getting knocked out by her staff.

“Fight back,” she said as she thrust in my direction.

I kept dancing around, looking for an opening. This wasn’t a simple puzzle where I had as much time as I needed for a solution—I had to try to think, fast, while Amalthea advanced.

I wouldn’t win. Not while I kept retreating.

The next time her staff came down, I lifted my wooden practice sword. The weapons collided, but I managed to shove her stave up.

“Good,” Demos called.

Good. Or very bad. Because Amalthea redoubled her efforts, her staff moving quickly.

I managed to block several blows, getting close enough her staff couldn’t build the momentum it was meant to.

But I wasn’t perfect. Her wooden pole knocked into my forearms once when I misjudged the angle, and pain reverberated up to my shoulder.

Feel it later. Fight now.

Vicious instinct drove me, unlike any that had awakened in me before.

Sweat dripped down my neck, my chest pounding against the tight fighting leathers.

Amalthea was also growing tired, her round face covered in a thin sheen.

Had her movements slowed? She’d been chasing me for as long as I’d been running .

A heavy blow to my leg alerted me to the fact that, no, Amalthea was not utterly exhausted.

Shit. I lifted my dagger again, but it wasn’t made to fight against a staff.

I went back on the defensive, dodging blocks, jumping backwards while I tried to formulate a plan.

Amalthea followed me, as expected, but her blows fell into a pattern.

Head, chest, leg, chest, head, chest, leg.

She’d switch sides or angles, but as her body tired, so did her mind.

Now . When the next chest blow came, I was ready. Instead of dodging, I deflected. Not fighting her staff but shifting it enough to make her need to adjust her balance. Surprise at the broken pattern made her stumble to regain balance, just barely. I swung my right leg out, sweeping under her left.