A week, maybe more may have passed, but Frederick did not see his wife again.

He thought he could almost sense her somewhere in the innards of the castle but she never appeared. Her sneers, threats, and dinners were preferred to this silent disdain. He almost felt foolish for what he'd assumed, but he fought against the misguided need to atone for it. He hadn't known he'd see babies being maimed. Hadn't expected to stumble upon anything like that when he asked Errand to take him to her.

Don't feel guilt for this, he constantly chided. You were right to be enraged. If you let it get to you, you'll be weak. You'll be nothing. Don't humanize her-she's still a monster.

And now that he knew about her no-drinking law ... he was more confused than ever. But it didn't change anything. Not really. One good act did not redeem a nefarious vampyre. It was only right that she make and enforce a reasonable law. The vampyres didn't need humans when there were other opportunities for nourishment-like the changelings. If they gave birth in the hundreds, then the vampyres wouldn't starve.

You don't know how many vampyres are here.

So far the answer was four: Arabella, Vignolo, Viscon, and Gheorge. And the last on his list was becoming a great nuisance. Their training had commenced, and Frederick listened to the advice he gave freely, memorizing every word before he retired to his suite and wrote pages and pages of notes.

"Think about it," Gheorge said, waving his sword with flourish, "a vampyre is faster than a human, stronger than a human, and possesses more power than a human."

Frederick dragged his wrist along his brow, finding it soaked. Rest would be coming soon, he just had to listen a little longer. "Humans don't possess power."

Amusement crossed his face. "Some possess power-like your priests and priestesses and healers and-"

"Some humans possess power," Frederick corrected. "But the majority of us don't."

"Yes, you do. Especially you, my angry friend."

Frederick shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Humans possess powers, but not in the typical sense. You have an instinct that guides you well, but you can choose to ignore it. You are inherently good as a race, for the majority of you work for a better world. You nurture life, reward it, help it grow. And of course, you breed like changelings."

He grinned at Frederick's displeasure. "All right, not exactly like changelings. But what I'm trying to say is that you breathe. Your body is more responsive to pain than a vampyre, warning you of when you've reached your limit, whereas we realize we're dying far too late. And your senses are accurate-your race just learns to ignore it."

"Ah," Frederick said, sheathing his sword. "So we are still working on the senses."

"They're important," he said in a singsong voice. "Vampyres train to be adept at controlling their senses, to have restraint instead of being a slave to incurable animal instinct, and above all, vampyres must train to use their senses without being overwhelmed-sight, sound, touch, taste, and above all feel."

"Yes, so you keep saying, but why."

"Because it will make all the difference-so start learning the differences. Like humans, we have the same brain as you, the same parts, but we produce a hormone that stops us from decaying-which is produced through?"

"Drinking blood," Frederick answered.

He tapped his temple. "Another fundamental difference is how our brains receive and action information. The sensory experience-the visceral-is unregulated in newborn vampyres. The thalamus is the part of the brain that reads the sensory and relays impulse, which both humans and vampyres have. But that part becomes grossly incapacitated during the vampyre transformation."

Gheorge raised both brows. "So with the restriction in a functioning thalamus, the senses hit us all at once. We feel things before they're there, hear many things at once, smell blood so potent that we taste it before it touches our tongue, driving us mad. This simply means that we feel too much and predict too quickly, meaning we're prone to many, many miscalculations. Why do you think that would be?"

Frederick sighed. "Because ..."

"Because?" When Frederick said nothing, he prompted again. "Because?"

Frederick folded his arms and waited.

Gheorge tsked. "I'm starting to think you're all beauty and no brains."

"And I'm starting to wonder why I even need training if I'm supposed to guess everything."

He pouted. "Words, hurt, Freddie. Arabella sent me here for my benefit as much as yours."

"Meaning?"

He grinned. "She knows what I like to look at."

Frederick rolled his eyes. Though Gheorge could be helpful, he was also an incurable pervert.

"If we sense an enemy before they're there, we can make premature decisions. Say for example we're facing a particularly fast opponent. If the vampyre senses their blow before it strikes-we might try to land the first hit. A more skilled opponent would know what move they're about to make by watching the direction their body tilts-you only need a second to identify a gesture-a movement in their arm, a change in their expression, anything-and sense which way they're going to move. Even humans can do that if they're trained to see it. So a vampyre, prematurely sensing this, strikes a blow and misses. Their opponent then has an opportunity to land a fatal hit. That's why it's important to capitalize on what you sense."

"But I won't be a fast opponent," Frederick said.

"Ah, but you will be a skilled opponent. One who knows vampyre behavior and understands vampyre instinct, which a majority of vampyres don't even understand in themselves because most vampyres do not know that their senses must be honed. Crafted into something they can live with. And, Freddie, most of the vampyres who will come for you will be so erratic because of their senses that all you have to do is stand there and wait until they get close enough."

"Most but not all," Frederick said. "An increase in sensory perception can be an advantage to the minority of vampyres as opposed to a weakness."

"Oh, sure. It can be. But think about it. Have you ever been in the heat of the battle, where you could narrow your focus down to one sound, one moment, one goal you had to achieve to survive?" Frederick nodded. "Yes ... I remember it, too. Vampyres find that virtually impossible to isolate. We hear it all, and there's no way to stop it. That's why, on the battlefield, you'll see vampyres who move like maniacs."

Frederick nodded slowly. "They need to watch all sides."

"Precisely. And it looks intimidating to a human but understanding how they work makes all the difference. Their fighting style is usually an indication of age, ability, strength-a vampyre might have a surge of adrenaline, where they demonstrate an act of unfathomable strength. So it's important to know that one, when a vampire shows a great act of strength, they did it on adrenaline, and two, now that they've done that, they're significantly weaker. So that's why it's important to rely on your-" He cupped his ear, waiting for an answer.

"Senses," Frederick said.

"Lovely. Now, I have to mention that this advice is useless on bonded vampyres."

Frederick tilted his head. "Bonded vampyres?"

"Yes. Bonded vampyres. They're even stronger, even faster. Vampyres hundreds of years older, with much more experience, are known to be slaughtered by ones who are not even thirty years old but have been bonded."

"And how do vampyres become bonded?"

Gheorge's expression became pensive, his amber eyes unseeing. "Vampyres become bonded when they find their mate. Their match. Their equal. They're supposed to be the love of our lives, and having them bonded to us turns us fearsome beasts. Unreasonable. For if our mates are threatened, we go into a killing rage, and we don't discern. We only get one, so we do anything to protect them at all costs."

Frederick scratched his chest. "But how will I know that I'm against one of those?"

"Oh, there are ways, but that is another lesson entirely. Thankfully, those are rare. For now, we're going to try this. Tell me where I am."

"What do you-" He disappeared, and Frederick forced his body to still.

Tell me where I am.

A ringing sounded in his ear, faint but noticeable. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Awareness crawled over his skin, settling on his back. He was able to isolate the presence, focusing on it, finding it directly-"You're behind me."

"Very good," Gheorge said, his boot steps signaling that he was coming closer. "Now, humans can't discern this feeling. This is that feeling of dread that signals something is wrong. Animals feel it when predators are about. But dig deeper. What makes this different."

If he concentrated, really concentrated, Frederick could feel it. "It feels like there's something ... expanding within my gut. Something wrong. Very wrong. I can't figure out what it is, but something is definitely there."

"Different, right? Though you can't explain it. That heavy presence is a vampyre."

Blunt force to the back of Frederick's head sent him reeling, and he spun around, finding no one there. "Gheorge!"

"When fighting a vampyre," Gheorge said, and Frederick took a sharp turn, finding Gheorge pacing toward him from the right of the room, "they will do their best to disorient you. It's not hard." He vanished, and Frederick whirled, searching and searching for-"Stop moving, and just focus."

Frederick pivoted, facing the direction of the voice. Finding nothing.

Focus.

A presence became known, but he couldn't narrow where.

"Vampyres vanish but must appear somewhere within a second-sometimes it will take them several seconds to travel from point to point if they're becoming tired," Gheorge said from behind him. "Unless your opponent has fled the battle entirely, you can bet they've vanished to a spot in the room, a spot ready for ambush." Gheorge's steps were silent this time, but his presence loomed. "So ... what do you think would be the best thing to do? Your opponent can vanish and reappear at will. Now, tell me what you would do."

Frederick positioned his feet, standing side-on, his head facing his shoulder.

"Very, very good, Freddie. Very good. In a position like this, you can move quickly from back foot to front."

His presence vanished, and Frederick traced his presence as it flickered in various corners in the room.

"Remember-always-scan-your-surroundings," he said, vanishing between each word.

Frederick inhaled for calm and exhaled slowly.

"If your vampyre enemy can't knock you flat in the first minute-they will insist on disorienting you-and this"-Gheorge edged closer-"will always be their first trick. So it's important not to-"

Frederick's fist shot backward, coming into contact with solid muscle. Gheorge's breath tickled his neck. "Very good, Frederick. Not bad for a mortal at all. If only you had the right weapons to counter me."

It might have been three movements-each one placed swiftly to different places on Frederick's body-and he lost his feet beneath him, his back slamming against the marble floor. "You bastard."

Gheorge peered down at him. "Vampyres will try to set you up to fail if they identify you as a difficult opponent, which they will in your case. They know what humans are trained to do, so we have to take your combat training and change it. Reshape the way you fight. But remember: don't let them manipulate you into a position that is to their advantage. Use your senses, pay close attention to what your body is warning you of, and you won't fall for their vanishing tricks. That way, you'll be able to know where they are, conserving your energy until it's time to land that fatal blow." Pressure clamped down on Frederick's wrist, and he groaned as he was hoisted upright. "Sorry about that, old boy."

Frederick rubbed his forehead. "It's quite all right." It was anything but all right.

Moments of silence passed, and Gheorge rested his hand on Frederick's shoulder. "And? How are things with the wife?"

Frederick groaned. "That is none of your concern."

"She's still mad at you, eh? Our lady holds grudges unmatched by any other being in the Star. It might be a hundred years before she deigns to acknowledge you exist."

"I don't have a hundred years," Frederick said, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was about to ask next, but he said, "So what do you suggest?"

"Don't know, old man. Can you think of anything you might have done to upset her lately? Did you jump to conclusions and assume she was drinking from innocent mortal children again?"

Frederick scowled. "She hasn't stopped being mad at me over the first time. But what did she expect me to think?"

"And you're right about that-I am on your side completely. Unless, of course, we're speaking in front of her. Then you're on your own."

Frederick went to speak when a colossal bang rocked the castle. Both men swayed, viewing each other when the tremors stopped.

"Was that Errand?" Frederick asked.

Gheorge's eyes lifted to the ceiling. "No. Not Errand. Surely your senses have adapted to the movements and presence of Errand." They hadn't. "And if you really concentrate, think about it, you'll be able to feel that energy."

Frederick tried but couldn't reach it. He couldn't understand what Gheorge referred to.

"We're done for today," Gheorge said. "Go to your room and stay there. Viscon will be with you soon."

Gheorge vanished, and Frederick considered obeying what he said when another force slammed into the castle.

"Errand?" Frederick called. "Is that you?"

A loud gurgle thrummed beneath the floorboards. Errand almost sounded ... pained. Meaning it wasn't Errand at all.

The next explosion knocked Frederick off his feet, and his back thrummed with shock as it hit the marble. Again. "Errand," Frederick panted. "What is it?"

A creak signified a door opening nearby, and Frederick propped himself onto his elbows in time to see another bright light shooting toward the castle.