Raihn let out a bark of a laugh, such a cruel and vicious sound I felt it up my spine. “They?” he spat. Suddenly he was on his feet, palms planted on the table, eyes brighter than flames. “You are one of them, Vale. I saw you be one of them for the better part of a fucking century. And you had no problem with their behavior then. But now you have a Turned wife, so everything has changed? Now it affects yours, so you can be moved to care? Don’t feed me that bullshit.”
No performances here. That was all real. More real, I suspected, than Raihn wanted it to be.
Vale’s body was rigid. Tension drew tight in the air, all of us balancing on its edge. I was half certain that Vale was about to lunge across the table at Raihn. My hands drifted to my blades on instinct—ridiculous, because what was I going to do, leap to Raihn’s defense?
But then Lilith jumped to her feet, shattering the breathless suspension.
“Stop,” she said. “This is a stupid fight.”
I wasn’t expecting it. My brows lurched without my permission. Mische let out a laugh that seemed mostly unintentional.
Lilith looked around the table before her gaze settled on Raihn.
“The House of Night needs this?”
The anger drained from Raihn’s expression when he looked at Lilith.
“Yes,” he said, voice immediately softer. “I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise. I promise you that.”
No more performances here, either. The truth. It should have been surprising, for a vampire king to speak to a former human foreigner with more respect than his high-ranking noble general. And yet it didn’t surprise me at all.
Lilith considered this, nodding slowly.
“I am not afraid,” she said.
Vale grabbed her hand, as if trying to drag her back to her seat.
“Lilith—” he grumbled.
But despite her fractured Obitraen, Lilith’s tone was final, her stare not breaking from Raihn’s. “If it is what the House of Night needs,” she said, “then we will do it. That is it.”
31
RAIHN
I liked Lilith. At least she had balls. It took them, to stand up and yell at a bunch of vampires speaking a language you barely even knew.
After dinner, everyone filed out to their rooms. Vale remained glued to Lilith’s side, his hand around hers. For a moment, I watched the two of them.
I’d had my assumptions, when Cairis had told me that Vale was coming back from Dhera with a brand-new Turned bride. I’d seen that story before. No, most vampires didn’t decide to marry their wards, but that didn’t change too much in my mind. Give someone endless life, and then take whatever you want from them afterwards. An eternity of servitude, sex, devotion.
I knew that story very, very well. Especially when written by people like Vale.
Even if maybe—maybe—he seemed like he actually loved her. Admittedly, I hadn’t been expecting that.
I came up behind them in the hallway, where Vale was whispering to Lilith in Dheran.
“Mind if I cut in?”
The look Vale gave me probably had been used to gut disobedient warriors on the battlefield.
“Of course,” he said.
“Ketura wanted to talk to you.”
“Can it wait?”
I smiled. “Better not to keep her waiting. She might bite.”
Excuses aside, that was true.
Vale glanced at Lilith, and I said, “I have a few minutes. I can escort Lilith back to her room.”
He still didn’t move.
Fair enough for Vale to be protective of his wife—he was right for that. But the suspicion in his expression went beyond your typical possessive newlywed behavior. Fitting suspicion, maybe, for someone who lived in Neculai’s court for so long—even if in a very different capacity than I did. Neculai took everything for himself, willingly or not.
One might’ve thought it would be a little satisfying to be looked at with that kind of wariness by a noble. Instead, it made me deeply uneasy.
“She’ll be safe,” I said. A little bit of a lilting joke. A little bit of genuine reassurance. “Promise.”
Reluctantly—and with a small nod from Lilith—Vale left.
I gestured down the hall, and Lilith and I set off in silence.
She definitely was an unusual woman. I fought a bemused smile when she spent the entire length of the first hallway staring at me outright—not just the typical curious glances, but actually staring, and doing absolutely nothing to hide it.
“You’ll walk into a wall if you don’t look where you’re going,” I said, in Dheran.
At that, she almost did walk into a wall.
She smiled. “You speak Dheran.”
“A little out of practice,” I said.
Goddess, I hadn’t spoken my own mother tongue in centuries. The syllables now felt uncomfortable on my tongue. Maybe because I felt like a very different man when I spoke them.
Her brows lowered, as if in deep thought. “Because you’re Turned. Vale told me that.”
I really did struggle to stifle my laugh at that one. Cairis had complained about her bluntness, but I found it oddly refreshing. I’d never once had someone so directly say something so rude.
At my reaction, her brows lowered. “That was impolite,” she said, though she said it as if it was a guess, like she really wasn’t sure how to read the expression on my face.
“No. It’s true. I was born in Pachnai. Very human, at the time. And you’re from...?”
“Adcova.”
“I haven’t heard of it.”
“No one has.”
“Do you like what you’ve seen of Obitraes so far?”
“It’s… it’s unlike any place I’ve ever been. It’s beautiful and dark and intriguing—” Her eyes went far off, staring straight ahead, as if far past the wall at the end of the hall and beyond. “I imagine I could spend a lifetime here and not see all it has to offer. The history in this place, and the—”
She cut herself off. “I don’t mean to ramble. I apologize.”
“Not needed.”
It was nice to see someone enthusiastic about something. The idea of seeing so much beauty and potential in Obitraes was foreign to me. A little refreshing, in a romantic kind of way.
“Has it been difficult to leave your home?”
“No,” she said. “I never belonged there.”
“And the other transition?”
Again, she stopped walking. This time she didn’t resume, staring at me hard.
“Forgive me for what I’m about to say,” she said. “But why are you talking to me?”
At that, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You are blunt.”
She tucked a strand of wavy hair behind her ear. “I’ve grown up knowing I would live a very short life. It’s more efficient to be direct.”
“I appreciate it. Turns out near-immortality makes people far too long-winded.”
We continued walking, and I went on, “As long as we’re being blunt, I’m just surprised because when I heard that Vale, a vampire noble, had Turned a human woman to bring back as his wife, I expected a very pretty, very polite, very subservient little thing.”
“I’m none of those things,” she said.
She was, objectively, pretty, if not my taste. But no, definitely not subservient or polite.
“I’m no good at games, Highness,” she said. “I’d like to know what your concern is. Are you worried that I’ll embarrass you at this—this celebration?”
I hadn’t thought about that, but… maybe someone really should make sure she didn’t get to talk to anyone important and easily offended.