Errand opened the grand double doors of the main entrance, allowing the Carnelian sky to soak the bone chandelier. Frederick reached the threshold and stared out of it, attempting to understand what floated in the distance.

It appeared to be ... a person, hovering above the ground.

His mind raced, attempting to explain what he was seeing. But no ... that was a woman in the air. Her hair and skirts whipped around her, and even under the sanguine light from where Frederick stood, her eyes glowed with an abnormal ice blue that seemed to suck in the focus of the world.

Arabella stood before her, a staff in her hand, and three men waited at her back.

The woman in the sky raised her head, as if noticing Frederick at the entrance. Come, something said, radiating from her.

The doors under Frederick's palms vibrated. A question.

He tried to use his senses, read his surroundings for any sign of threat but found none. That instinct seemed to be calling him, she seemed to be calling him, and Errand began to close the doors when he said, "It's all right, Errand. I'll go out there."

The doors parted wide, and Frederick headed down the creaking steps, crossed the land, and went to join them. One by one, each man turned. He recognized Gheorge, who reeked of nothing but fury as he bared his fangs. The other two he had yet to become acquainted with. Frederick passed each of them, one of them enormous and heavily muscled, and the last man watched Frederick approach with pure disdain.

Ah. So that would be Vignolo.

Come closer.

He neared Arabella, who didn't turn to acknowledge him, and he reached her side and halted. Though the instinct beckoned for him to stand at that woman's feet, he would not go any farther, choosing to stay within Arabella's reach.

The gale that surrounded the woman stopped, and the blue vanished from her eyes as they studied him. "What do we have here?"

"Go back inside, Frederick," Arabella murmured.

"No, don't send him back yet," the woman said, her voice a mix of honey and smoke just like her dark skin. A woman formed from the darkest part of midnight. The red hue of the world reflected off her cheekbones and collarbone, her skin glowing with it. Flawless. Faultless. An enchantress. Her plump lips tilted into a smirk, and he wondered what impressions she formed of him at that moment. "A human."

A hand gripped his bicep, and Frederick looked up into the red eyes of Vignolo. "The queen told you to leave."

"Vignolo," Arabella murmured, "you let go of the prince, or else I'll ensure you won't be able to use that hand ever again."

With what seemed to be great reluctance, Vignolo released Frederick's arm. "My apologies, my queen."

"Well, don't apologize to me," she drawled, focused on the woman above her. "The prince is a person, not a pet. And his hearing is crystal clear."

"My queen-"

"Apologize. Now."

"We don't have time for this," Vignolo snarled.

"I can wait all night."

"I can, too," the woman added. "I want to see how this turns out."

Vignolo's eyes narrowed, and Frederick suspected that he was making a deliberate show of his fangs as he said, "I am sorry, Your Highness," and he stepped back, standing with the other men.

"So the rumors are true," the woman said. "You married again. And you married a human from the Star. Where did he come from?"

"Tessande," Arabella drawled, warning in her tone. "You're not here to offer your felicitations. Get to your point and go."

Tessande descended from the sky and set foot upon the ground smoothly, feline and elegant. This close, Frederick could discern more of her details. She wore her hair in braided columns that spanned from her roots to the length of her torso, the style reminiscent of the warriors of old. Her dress appeared to be comprised of two swathes of black fabric, the material, like her skin, retaining much of the sky for a menacing effect. Both pieces draped from her neck, covering her nipples-barely-before pooling to the ground, the slits in the skirts revealing both thighs. And the shoes on her feet resembled nothing more than leather straps crisscrossing around her calves that ended in a strange heel, all toes visible. There seemed to be some glowing ink pattern on the edge of her right leg, indicating some form of mystical tattoo. He thought Arabella might be approving of such a scandalous garb but realized only her undergarments were designed to be erotic. The dresses she favored tended to be quite ... conservative otherwise.

And Tessande bore no weapons, which meant that she was lethal enough without them. Even the Widow Queen carried something in the presence of this enemy, and she apparently had power over everyone here.

But not this Tessande.

Frederick drew his attention up her body and viewed her face, startled to find that she seemed to be examining him in much the same way. "A human who watches me openly with no fear. This must be Prince Frederick Baxter Landen of Thescan. He's not the same caliber as your other husbands, but I guess a prince always becomes a king. And I can see why you accepted this one."

"Tessande," Arabella growled.

"Well, Prince, I know you like what you see." She gave an approving nod. "If you ever need a warm bed or escape from a cold bitch, do not hesitate to search for me."

Arabella strolled forward, and both women circled each other. Two lionesses sizing up their opponent.

"You've overcome your sister again," Arabella said. "You should listen to her more. She is wise not to step on my land."

Tessande rolled her eyes. "Yes, simple little Yessara. I can never tell which one of us you hate more. That little imbecile is terrified of you. But I'm not."

Arabella twirled the staff with one hand, treating it as feather-light as a pen. "How are you coping with the significant loss of soldiers in the Invisible Army? They couldn't wait to come and sample the stream."

"I lost my army because of your water but the loyal and most lethal stayed behind. But there will be more. There are always more."

Arabella continued to twirl the staff with skill and ease. "Your army fought for the water they needed. Now they don't have anything to fight for. I welcomed them into my kingdom without reservation. My water is for all to use, and now their alliance is mine to seize. I know you have no more pawns to sacrifice for your cause. And as for creating more for your army-you know that creating newborn vampyres at random is against my laws. Stop playing this game with me, for one day I will reach the end of my limit, and I'll have no mercy left for you."

"Never," she said through gritted teeth, the whites of them stark against her skin. "Not until you give me what I want."

"And what do you want, Tessande?"

"Him," she spat. "It's always about him."

Arabella held her gaze. "Whom?"

"Don't. You know who. The one you hold prisoner."

Arabella's laugh held no mirth. "I am responsible for so many prisoners that I can't be expected to remember them all."

The blue glowed within Tessande's eyes once more, reminding Frederick of a blizzard. "You fucking know who I mean. Don't make me say it."

Arabella tsked. "If you have nothing else to say then the matter is over. Leave and save us the brawling."

Tessande stopped pacing, causing Arabella to stop also. "Not in the mood to scrap with me today, are we? That desperate to make me go. So you don't want to talk about your prisoners. You don't want your human to know what depraved things you do to earn coin."

Arabella pouted with mocking. "Don't be silly. I'm not ashamed of what I do to earn coin. At least it's not by whoring my body to any and every willing being. I suspect that's how you fund that army of yours. Must be so difficult to pay your soldiers when all you earn from one measly fuck is coppers. No wonder they flocked to my kingdom in droves."

"Bitch," she snarled. "The last I heard, you love cock more than any being on this earth."

Arabella lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. "At least I don't have to grovel for it like a pig in the mud where they say you like to rut. Any dirt road will do?"

Blue swirled around Tessande's hands, her grin positively feral. "I tire of exchanging insults with you."

"Then you must be downright exhausted, poor lamb. You really think what you're exchanging with me are insults."

"You don't learn, do you?" Tessande said, her voice taking on a distorted, beastly tone. "My powers are stronger than they've ever been. Give Ledromas to me or else I'll put a hole through your heart."

Arabella stepped aside. "I've said it once, and I'll say it again, but clearly I give your ability to comprehend simple instruction too much merit." Tessande growled, the sound causing Frederick's gut to tighten with warning. "Go into the castle and get him yourself. If you can withstand Errand, you can have him. If you can't ..." Arabella clutched her chin. "How many years did it take for us to find you the last time? Ten? Twenty. You couldn't even remember your own name when we-"

"Stop playing games," Tessande demanded in that brutal voice, "give him to me or else I'll take this human and make him wish for death-"

It might have taken a second. Arabella vanished and reappeared so fast that Frederick could barely understand what he was seeing. Her nails had sharpened into long black claws that encircled Tessande's neck.

"Try it," Arabella said with a calmness that surprised him. "You so much as try is and see where that gets you."

The light at Tessande's hands grew, blinding Frederick's vision. Magic fizzled his skin, burning his face and forearms. He staggered back, the heat surging to an unbearable level. And Arabella was receiving the entirety of it.

She might not survive.

She might be dying.

She might already be dead.

Dread bit into his heart. If she was dead ... he wouldn't know what to feel if she was dead. But her demise wouldn't be that easy, he knew it, and he recited that over and over until the light finally wavered. Frederick was almost too frightened to lower his arm for fear of what he would see.

But Arabella hadn't budged, her claws still wrapped tightly around Tessande's throat. But at Arabella's waist, a gaping wound glistened.

Tessande's eyes widened. "You should be on the ground ..."

Arabella lowered her face to Tessande's. "You think you're the only one who's stronger? We haven't crossed paths in centuries-not since Errand put you in your place. You thought your little magic tricks could still subdue me after all this time? You thought wrong."

Arabella released her, then circled with the grace of a serpent. The staff reappeared in her hands, and she struck Tessande in the head with it, sending the woman soaring across the land.

Tessande was quick to disappear and reappear on her feet, hatred dripping from her glowing eyes. "This is not done."

"Oh, but I think it is," Arabella replied. "Pay Errand a visit or leave."

A jolt of power shook the land, Tessande's body swirling with it. "Give me what I want, and I swear to leave your human alone."

Arabella smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You'll get a chance at neither of them."

She tensed. "Then you leave me no choice-"

"You so much as lay a finger on him," Arabella said, scratching her throat, "and I will yank your heart through your stomach and make you birth it through your cunt." Blood rushed to Frederick's brain, making the world spin. "You never set your eyes upon him again, or else I will gut you so slowly. You are lucky that you have Yessara to hide behind or else I would have ended you long ago."

"I would love to see you try," Tessande said sweetly, "but the reason you can't kill me is that you simply can't. No one can."

Arabella feigned a yawn, but her eyes held a seriousness that was terrifying to behold. "Just before you go, I have a question: was it you who tried to ambush Prince Frederick and Viscon?"

Tessande's eyes settled back on Frederick. "Until we meet again, Prince. My offer always stands." And then she vanished.

Before Frederick could breathe, his surroundings disappeared, and he reappeared within the castle halls.

Arabella stepped away and folded her arms over her torso. Strands of hair hung from her temples, curls loosening from their pins. And her face ... grayer than he'd ever seen. Her eyes black. Her entire face sunken. She'd lost weight since the last time he saw her. That wound at her side was as horrific as he suspected, and she leaned against her staff-the staff which he realized was the same one she'd sent to Thescan on their wedding day.

"Tell me what to do," Frederick said quietly.

"Tell you to do what?"

"To attend to you. To help you."

She groaned and fell to her knees, the staff slamming onto the ground. Frederick lowered by her side and gripped her shoulders. She shrieked with agony, her hand flying to her side, the other reaching for Frederick's. She gripped him tight as her screams became shrill, panic squeezing his chest. "Please-tell me what to-"

The wound squelched, the bloodied skin curling in on itself. Mending. The marks faded before his eyes, stopping short of complete healing. She moaned with relief and slouched against Frederick's side.

He clutched her hand and pressed kisses against her damp temple. "It's all right, Ara. You're all right. Brave, brave girl."

She rested her head against his neck, allowing him to hold her. They stayed that way for a small eternity, his thoughts in turmoil. She'd trusted him to stay by her side, protected him against all threats. Stood in the face of unrelenting power and mocked it. And when she took the brunt of that magic, remaining strong, proud, magnificent after such a critical hit, she reminded him of his best soldiers. And the calmness she maintained, the grace, even as she retaliated ...

But Tessande-an enchantress? A vampyre? Someone strong enough to get to Arabella. Harm her. Someone terrified of Errand.

Whatever she was, Frederick committed the words to memory, playing them over and over in his mind, memorizing them for when he would need them most.

Until we meet again, Prince. My offer always stands.

Arabella winced and rubbed her side, a little line forming between her brows. Frederick pressed his lips against it, unease rippling through him as he pulled away. He could not help but consider the way they rested against one another. Torso to back. No spaces between them. Completely relaxed-the most relaxed they had been around each other. This close he could smell her blood, feel the exhaustion in her body. Parting from her would feel close to plucking out stitches before an injury had settled. He wanted to stay like this for just a while longer. To forget what he came here to do. Forget what she was and what he needed from her.

But she sighed and drew away. "Errand really needs to stop encouraging you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was going to see." He brushed a loose strand behind her ear. "And that's not all I'm sorry for, Ara." Her mouth thinned into a flat line. "I'm sorry for that night a week ago. I should have known better than to assume."

She raised one shoulder in an attempted shrug and rested against him once more. "What could I expect you to think, Freddie?"

His eyes roved over the details of her face; this was the closest to her he had ever been. Not a line had frozen on her refined skin, meaning she'd rarely laughed before her transformation-if she'd laughed at all. His gaze wandered to her lips, the top reminding him of an arrow bow, the bottom full and perfectly curved. Temptation goaded him to nibble it, and he hadn't the damnedest idea of why.

Because you've gone long without a woman, and your wife surpasses every one.

The thought struck him like a physical blow, desire overcoming his senses. She would surely feel his heart thumping against her shoulder, and he searched her dark eyes. "You look so unwell. Did I stop you from feeding that night? Because if you need-"

She tucked her feet beneath her and rose from the floor. "Well, we can't sit in a hall all night."

Frederick took the staff and stood also. "Ara-"

"Please stay out of trouble, Frederick," she said, doing a damned good job of looking anywhere but him. "I need you to listen to Gheorge and learn as fast as you can. Tessande is a mortal enemy of mine, but not even she would be stupid enough to harm you. If she ever did-"

She shook her head and took the staff from him. "I believe in Thescan it is custom to exchange rings at one's wedding ceremony." She held out the staff on an upraised palm, and he watched it shrink until it formed a ring. "This is Staff. Think, and it shall form into whatever weapon you desire. Keep it on your person always."

With reluctance, he accepted it from her and examined it. The dark metal of the ring was the same substance as the staff, with two dull rubies embedded within the band. It had the same wrongness about it as the staff itself.

"If that bitch manages to get a hold of you somehow," she said, "you use your mind to turn that into a spear or a sword or a dagger. You stick it in her neck and twist when the time is right. Cut her head right off if you have to. Then you run as fast as you can. If her so-called soldiers from her Invisible Army catch you, you use the skills Gheorge is teaching you to finish them. Her army is comprised of fresh vampyres who are no more than several years transformed, and none of them will stand a chance against you if you time your blows right. That is, of course, if what they say about you on the battlefield is true."

She bobbed her head. "But that won't happen. She wouldn't dare harm you. But please, pay attention to your training. For now, Errand will take you back to your room." Arabella turned her back to him, leaning down to arrange her train. "I'll bid you goodnight. And ... and I thank you for the comfort."

She started down the hallway when Frederick called, "Are you and I going to continue like this?" Arabella stalled. "I know that I offended you, but I think I've had enough punishment."

"You feel as though you're being punished?"

"I made a mistake. An honest one. And now you won't see me again?"

Her head dipped. "I'm not punishing you. I just needed the space. I-" She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I hate that you see what I am. What I need to do to survive. So if anyone is being punished, Frederick, it's me."

"Then don't suffer anymore," Frederick insisted, taking a step in her direction. "See me for dinner at least. But know that if you decide to see me, you need to be honest with me from now on."

"Honest with you?" Arabella repeated, spinning to face him. "You dare ask for honesty when you are not forthcoming with it yourself?"

He swallowed. "What do you want me to say? That I'm confused? That I don't know what to think and understand nothing of this?" Another step. "I'll admit all those things and more. Because I'm lonely, Ara. I have never been so alone. And you avoiding me makes it worse."

A flicker of sorrow appeared on her face, but she blinked it away.

"You need to explain some things to me," Frederick said. "I don't want to guess. I don't want to think. I don't want to assume. I want to know. Just ... just tell me about this place. About what I should fear. What I'm training against. You can't expect to tell me to be careful and say nothing else about it."

She held his stare for a moment longer, then turned to continue up the hall.

"So that's it?" Frederick said, following her. "You'll just ignore me again? Turn your back and-"

"I'll think about it," she said, stopping. "I will. I'll think about it. But I can't tell you everything at once. It's too much."

Frederick exhaled for patience. "All right. But you will tell me eventually?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'll tell you what you need to know. That is, of course, once I figure out why you want to know it."

"Please," he said once more, "see me again. I won't disappoint you this time."

"Frederick," she said, her lip curling from her fang, "I've heard that many times before, and it hasn't been true yet. So do not make promises that are impossible to keep."

She vanished, and he stared at the space for minutes after she left.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he expected to see Viscon but found Gheorge instead. "I can't believe you were brave enough to go out there. Do you have a death wish, Freddie?"

Frederick glowered. "I just had to know. I had to know something."

Gheorge nodded slowly. "I suppose that is understandable. But I asked you to return to your room, so please don't do that again, or else the queen will think that I am putting you at risk."

"She doesn't think that at all. She knows it was Errand."

"Yes, Errand has taken quite a liking to you," he said, a smile twitching at the corner of his lip. "Just, please. If you sense Tessande again, don't face her. She makes every vampyre cower with fear for a reason."

Every vampyre but the Widow Queen, but he didn't have to say that. "What is Tessande?"

"A nasty thing."

"And how do I fight against her?"

Gheorge's expression became grim. "You don't. And that's the only reason Arabella hasn't killed her-because she can't."