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Mische threw a cherry in her mouth and chewed, clearly savoring it, before swallowing—pit and all. She and Raihn picked at food, but mostly drank two large goblets of blood. The plate of food Mische presented me was far more than I could ever eat, artfully arranged by color—berries and meats and cheeses, piled high.
I eyed them both as they sipped their blood. Mische had clearly wanted me to sit across the table from her, but I moved to the end of the table instead. It just felt more comfortable to put some distance between us. Give myself time to react if either of them made a move.
I lifted my chin to their glasses. “What kind is that?”
Raihn took a sip and smacked his lips. “Deer. I think.”
I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or not that it wasn’t human. I didn’t like to think about where it might be coming from, but at least if the others were getting it from the decanters, they wouldn’t be quite as tempted to get it from me. There was, after all, nothing quite like human blood for them.
It wasn’t the only kind that sufficed. Deer, horse, cow, or pig’s blood was the most common. Chicken or crow blood was the cheapest, though it was nutritionally poor and apparently tasted horrible. In Vincent’s court, horse blood was often cured and flavored into delicacies. But even the finest of substitutions didn’t compare to human blood. The upper class had it often, harvested or consumed straight from blood vendors like Ilana had been.
“There wasn’t any left,” I said. “When I went down there earlier.”
“We know,” Raihn replied.
We were silent for a long, awkward moment, all very aware of what that could mean. At least for now, contestants could leave the Moon Palace in search of more. But I had a feeling that the leash would tighten, sooner or later.
“We have plenty for us, though!” Mische said brightly, breaking the tension and holding up a very full decanter, sloshing the red, thick liquid within. “Took as much of it as we could carry before the others got to it.”
“And food, too,” Raihn added. “For you.”
I could be grateful for that, at least, on both counts. Though their kindness made me uncomfortable.
One of the candles in the candelabra at the center of the table remained unlit. Mische frowned at it, then snapped her fingers. A little fragment of flame sparked at her fingertip, which she used to light the candle with a satisfied smile.
I watched in fascination. It was just as surprising here, up close, as it had been to see in the ring. My curiosity won out. “That isn’t Nyaxia’s magic.”
“Nope. Atroxus.”
Just like I’d thought. And yet the confirmation didn’t make it any less unbelievable. While each of the thirteen gods could be called on for various forms of magic, none of the twelve deities of the White Pantheon allowed their powers to be drawn upon by vampires. Vampires, after all, were Nyaxia’s children, and the White Pantheon despised Nyaxia.
Mische read my face.
“It is perfectly possible for a vampire to wield magic from beyond Nyaxia’s domain,” she said, in a tone that implied she’d given this explanation many times before. “It just takes the right talents, that’s all.”
She seemed proud of herself. But I didn’t miss the disapproval on Raihn’s face as he sipped his blood at this exact moment—as if to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you wield magic?”
I hesitated before answering. Maybe I didn’t want them to know that I did, even if my magic was basically worthless anyway. An advantage was an advantage. But I was silent for a moment too long. Mische gri
Shy. That was rich. I considered calling it that next time Vincent made a disparaging comment about the weakness of my magic. Don’t judge it. It’s just shy!
He’d love that.
“Only a little,” I said. “Useless things. It’s never done anything for me.” My gaze slid to Raihn. “And what about you?”
“Oh, same,” he said, taking another sip of blood. “Useless things.”
As if we hadn’t all seen him use it to kill a man mere days ago.
Mische giggled, clearly finding Raihn more amusing than I did.
My eyes narrowed. “Useless things like Asteris?”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Exactly like that.”
BANG BANG.
I jumped. My gaze snapped to the front door, which shook with the force of each knock.
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.
Raihn barely glanced at it. “Now that sounds like something we shouldn’t answer.”
“Raihn Ashraj, OPEN. THIS. FUCKING. DOOR.”
The deep female voice boomed from beyond the door, so loud it might as well have been coming from inside the apartment. If the banging kept up, surely it would be in a matter of minutes.
Mische glanced to Raihn. He narrowed his eyes at her. They had an unspoken conversation.
He groaned. “Why is it always me? Why is it never your name they’re screaming through the sun-cursed door?”
She smiled sweetly. “Because I’m nice and pretty.”
“I’m nice and pretty,” he grumbled. He rose, grabbed his sword from where it lay haphazardly on the coffee table, and unsheathed it in one smooth movement. Then he stalked to the door and threw it open, giving whoever was on the other side no time to react before the sword was in their face.
“Hello, Angelika.”
And immediately, that sword was met with the cold metal edge of an axe. Bearing it was the woman who led the House of Blood contestants… and she was furious.
Up close, she might’ve been the most muscular woman I’d ever seen, nearly as tall as Raihn and broad enough to fill the doorway. The defined cut of her arms, exposed in her sleeveless armor, flexed as she deflected the full force of Raihn’s blow—and if the strain of his was any indication, he wasn’t holding back, either.
“Where is he?” Angelika snarled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not like that Rishan piece of shit you killed during the feast. I’m not falling for your games. Where is he?”
I hovered near the door, my own weapons out, but I wasn’t about to jump into that unless I had to. Mische seemed shockingly blasé, watching with obvious interest but little concern.
Apparently, Angelika didn’t especially want or need an answer from Raihn, because instead of waiting for one, she struck. And Raihn was ready for it. He deflected her blow and used the force of it to push both of them out into the hallway, away from the entrance to the apartment.
When they fought, it was like watching two forces of nature collide. Angelika was vicious, every movement woven with sheer power. The light of the hall illuminated the scars up and down her arms—she was a blood magic wielder.
If she used such magic against Raihn, though, it didn’t seem to affect him—save, perhaps, for a minuscule lurch when her weapon met his. He was a breathtakingly skilled warrior. Damn near an artist. In the trial, I’d been too distracted to notice just how good he was. He moved with incredible grace for such a large person. Each strike or dodge or step blended into each other like steps to a dance. The puffs of darkness around his sword intensified with every swing, leaving streaks of night behind every blow and wrapping the two of them in ribbons of shadow.
Yet Angelika was just as good, just as strong, just as fast. They were evenly matched, both trembling under the force of each other’s power. By the nature of my position in life, I’d gotten very good at sizing up predators—at recognizing killers. And right now, I was watching two ruthlessly efficient ones toy with each other.
With one forceful thrust against her axe, Raihn pushed her away. “It’s his own damned fault. And you know it, too.”
“It was the human,” she shot back. “I know it was.”
“He was out of his mind. Went after her in the greenhouse, of all places.”
Angelika had been ready to strike again, but at this, she paused. Lowered her axe, just a fraction of an inch.
Raihn did not lower his. But he didn’t strike, either. “In daylight, Angelika.”
“The greenhouse,” she repeated.
“He was long gone,” Raihn said. “He got himself killed. Hell, you should be thanking us. We saved you from a very unpleasant task.”
“Watch yourself,” she hissed.
“What? Would you rather he lived long enough to get used by this place? Like those poor bastards we fought in the ring?”
Angelika flinched. Her fingers lifted—paused, briefly, at her throat. She didn’t speak for a long moment, and I tensed, waiting to see if she would move again.
“I’d rather kill her in the trials than kill her here,” she said, at last, voice low and thick with promise—and at this, her eyes fell to me, hard with hatred. Her nostrils flared. I became very conscious of the rapid pace of my heartbeat.
“And as for you.” That glare settled on Raihn. “You… you’re lucky it’s not your time yet. Remember right now exactly how lucky you are.”
Then she simply lowered her axe and stalked away.
We waited until she was long gone before any of us moved. Raihn was the first to speak.
“I probably should’ve killed her.”
“You say that like you would have won,” I said.
He let out a low chuckle. “Oh, I would have won.”
His rose-colored gaze slid to me, and I became aware all at once of how close he was standing—close enough that I could smell him, a scent that reminded me of saffron and heat beating down over the desert, and something else, something I couldn’t quite place.
Goosebumps rose at my skin, instincts rebelling against allowing someone this close. I took several casual steps back, and Raihn’s stare drifted back to where Angelika had disappeared down the stairs.
“Still. Her? She’s a problem. She’s the one to watch.”
“I feel sorry for her,” Mische said softly, and offered nothing more.