"Good morning, Frederick."

Frederick shot upright, reprimanded instantly by the stiffness in his body. He was in bed, under the heavy blankets but somehow freezing cold. "Viscon?"

"You didn't come to the breakfast room so I thought-" Viscon's eyes narrowed as they viewed him, focusing on one place. "What happened to you?"

Frederick tried to turn his head but found it couldn't twist. "Is something wrong?"

Viscon lowered the tray to move about the room, and he returned with a handheld mirror. Frederick accepted it, looking into the glass to find several punctures in the side of his neck, the skin heavy with purple bruising all the way to his throat.

It returned to him then in force. The night with her and the way her fangs felt inside him. What they did and felt together.

Shit.

Thinking about it caused his cock to throb, but his mind knew better than that. Another night like that would never happen again.

And knowing that struck him with a disappointment that he was embarrassed to feel.

"Was it Her Majesty?" Viscon asked softly.

Frederick sealed his palm over the marks. "I'm all right, Viscon. I'll just eat my breakfast here and take a bath." Viscon's lips parted, his eyes searching his face as if he could find the truth. "I'm fine."

Finally, Viscon snatched his prying glance away. "I'll start your bath for you."

"That isn't-" But Viscon had already gone for the washroom and shut the door behind him.

Frederick sighed and lowered back into bed, throwing his elbow over his eyes. His neck stung with every swallow, which meant he wouldn't be eating. And he was so cold and tired that he couldn't bring himself to care about much else. But he should think. Think about treason and prisons and enchantresses ... and he was thinking about those things when someone shook his arm. "Frederick?"

His body tensed. "Yes, Viscon?"

"You ... you fell asleep again. I waited to see if you would get up, but the water is going cold. I had to wake you."

He allowed Viscon to help him out of bed, and the vampyre followed at his side until they made their way to the washroom. "I'll be out here until I know you're finished."

"That isn't necessary," Frederick murmured, shutting the door behind him. But he knew Viscon wouldn't leave even if he ordered him to do it. So Frederick disrobed and grimaced as he slipped into the tub, hot water lashing against his skin.

Here in the washroom, he would have time to think. Really think. But his mind lacked the clarity it needed to scheme. He just wanted to be. Exist in peace and savor the quiet before the chaos started all over again. And he remained that way until the water went from hot to warm.

A knock sounded at the door. "I'm coming in."

Frederick groaned. "Viscon, I'm fine."

"I don't hear any disturbance in your bathwater." Viscon entered and sat on the lip of the tub, and he lowered to pick up the soaps and shampoos. "Just relax, Master. I'll make quick work of it."

Frederick wanted to protest but couldn't summon the strength. He let Viscon attend to him, and once again he fell asleep. When he jolted awake, he found himself fully clothed and cloaked, sitting upright in an armchair by the fire, a blanket spread over his lap.

"I went back down to the kitchen and reheated some soup," Viscon said as he dragged a small table before Frederick, and he set something steaming and hot before him with a side of bread. "This will do you better than the breakfast I brought up before. Beef broth. Eat all of it."

Frederick muttered his thanks and raised the spoon. He'd swallowed several mouthfuls before he set it down again and stared into the swirling eddies of herbs. He knew that Viscon meant well, but he wanted to be left alone today. At some point he needed to think, and he couldn't do that with the silent horror omitting from his valet.

"Frederick."

He sensed that Viscon was quick to vanish as he looked up at Arabella. Dressed demurely in a black dress buttoned to her neck, her hair tightly wound and free from her face. Unease settled into his shoulders, arms, and legs. Last night had felt like a dream, and he still didn't know how to interpret it. His body's reaction to her ... "Your Highness."

Her wince was slight, almost non-existent. "Can we talk? I won't take much of your time for I have much to do. But if we could just ..." Her eyes wandered to his neck. "Let me give you some blood to fix that."

"No," Frederick said, clamping his hand over his wounds. "Don't trouble yourself."

"Frederick-"

"No," he repeated, channeling all his firmness into one word. The last time he took her blood he loved it. He didn't need that right now to add to the conflict inside him.

He wanted to keep it there for just a while longer to remind him of what she was. What she was capable of. How much worse it could be for him if he didn't use his mind. Make decisions. Allowed himself to get carried away. He'd been so stupid to think sex with a vampyre would be no different to a normal woman. But gods it was so different, and he hadn't even been inside her.

Her fingers twisted against each other, that worry between her brows forming. "Frederick ..."

"What is it you want, Arabella?" he asked, attempting to stop the disrespect from creeping into his tone, but the words fell short. He was far too exhausted. Too irritated to feign pleasantries today.

"I need to speak with you. Is now a good time?"

His eyes darted to the bed. "Perhaps not here."

"Yes ... of course," she said, lowering her head. "Let's go for a walk-if you're feeling up to it."

He didn't feel up to it. He really didn't. And he didn't wish to be by himself with her. He wanted to go back to that bed alone and sleep for a thousand years. But he couldn't keep her waiting or find a good excuse to delay, and he stood up and gestured for her to lead.

She didn't take his hand and vanish. Instead, the two of them made their way down the castle halls. Maybe this was her way of delaying a hard discussion. Turbulent energy surrounded her though she revealed nothing, and he did his best to ignore it. To stop himself from taking her by the shoulders and shaking her.

Spit out what you want to say, he nearly growled. Don't leave me guessing like this.

They exited through the castle doors, and the chill of Carnelia seeped into him worse than it ever had. The barrenness of this land bled ahead of them. He wasn't looking forward to this discussion. Perhaps it was his mood. The blood loss. The fatigue that made him want to reconsider this walk. But the silence weighed on them with every step until Frederick had enough. "This is about last night?"

"I know I must have startled you. And for that, I am sorrier than you know."

"Don't be," he said, careful not to exceed her stride. "I did not mind." Even if she had taken too much. He had enjoyed it before that point. And maybe that was the part that had twisted him worse than anything else. Angered him. Distracted him.

"I took it too far," she said.

His laugh held no humor. "I barely lasted long enough for you to take it too far. It should be me apologizing to you."

She scratched her neck. "And that is not your fault. I wanted you. And I got to a point where I would have done anything to excite you."

Want me as much as I want you, she'd once said. "And what did you do that made me so ... excited?"

Her cheeks darkened, signifying he had satisfied her in sustenance, at least. "For some people, a vampyre bite is quite arousing. When I realized you found it ... stimulating, I bit you again too soon, knowing I should not have. I have no excuse for it. I lost control, and I know better than that."

He could have let it go. Should have let it go. There was no offense in her words, and they were so pointless to pick on. But his jaw tensed, his ire unrelenting. "You've always had to be mindful of your lovers, then?"

She didn't look at him. "I am very strong."

But he wasn't done with it, and he clasped his hands behind his back. "Strong for mortals?"

"Strong for anyone."

And how did she know that? "You must have accumulated that knowledge over quite a number of lovers." He viewed her through the corner of his eye. "Just how many lovers have you had?"

She didn't break her stride, but she did tilt her head. "I'm trying to apologize to you. Yet you would like to discuss my previous lovers?"

He shrugged. "Seems a good a time as any. Men usually know these things about their fiancée upfront before they enter marriage."

"Right," she said tightly. "I suppose Thescanians put great value on such nonsense. But maybe we should discuss it another time. I wouldn't want to keep you."

"Wouldn't want to keep me?" he repeated. "Is that because your list of lovers is so extensive?"

Her dark eyes sheened with red, which looked gruesome under the Carnelian sky. The Widow Queen. Yes, he could never forget that for a second when he was with her. "There are better ways to reaffirm your manhood, Freddie. No discussion of my previous lovers and how you compared required. I pushed you too hard last night, and I made your body react too fast. The fault is with me alone and not your stamina."

"How kind of you to make me feel secure about my manhood," he said, keeping his escalating anger on a leash. "Now answer my question."

"Making demands of me, Freddie?" she said through gritted teeth, the sight of her little fangs making his bite marks throb. "How about I answer that question if you do. Did you sift through many skirts in Thescan?"

He nodded. There was no use denying it. "Yes."

"And how many women have you had?"

Enough women to know he'd never shamed himself with any woman ever before. And yet this woman ... "More women than I can count. Now, answer the question."

She gave him a pointed look. "Also more than you can count."

He jerked and hoped she didn't notice. "I see."

She laughed. "That can't possibly upset you. You know how terribly old I am. So you tell me-how many lovers I would have had based on how old I am."

He crooked his head from side to side. "I don't like riddles."

"No, you don't like mathematics," she said, cruel humor in her voice. "You don't like that I've been through so many men. Probably far more than the number of women you've fucked."

"Enough."

She came to a halt, forcing him to stop. "Now let me calculate."

"Arabella."

"No," she said, soft but stern. "You asked. I'll answer."

He folded his arms and waited.

She counted in fives, every digit making his arms clench. "You know what? Let's just say I've slept with thousands of men."

And not one of them was him.

Yet she went on about nonsense and seduction when she had already availed herself to so many. It made him shamefully dizzy, and he turned on his heel to head back to the castle. When he had the strength again, he would throw things at Errand for hours.

"Oh, come on now," she said. "If you lived to be even a thousand years old, you wouldn't have slept with more women?"

He whirled, the cloak swirling. "Double your number, and that would have been mine in a mere thousand years."

"And yet you stand there and judge me."

"No, that isn't the problem."

She tipped her head back and laughed. "Then this should be good. What is the problem, Freddie?"

"How can you have slept with that many men and yet, not taken me-your husband-to bed."

Her laughter abruptly stopped. The two of them remained there, weighted glares firing at each other. He sweltered beneath his clothes, hating that he sounded so idiotic.

She lowered her chin and averted her eyes, but not before he caught the guilt sweeping across her face. "I have my reasons."

"Then I'd like to hear them." Or maybe he wouldn't, but it was too late now to take back the words.

A sound of disbelief escaped her. "Freddie, lover, can you even stand me?"

He looked away. "Yes."

"That sounded so convincing."

"Yes," he said firmly, meeting her gaze. "I can stand you."

He could more than stand her though he didn't care to admit it. He craved her. And every time those feelings became stronger, the need for her greater, something would happen.

A castle haunted by a mysterious being.

Prisoners in the Star's worst jail begging for mercy.

An attempt on his life by unseen enemies.

Babies being drained in the dozens.

An enchantress at the castle doors.

Circumstance after circumstance after circumstance.

And then all those feelings of lust would turn to confusion. Last night had only made it worse. The interaction he had with her terrified him. Yet it brought unspeakable pleasure. He couldn't help but think that if being outside her felt that good, then he might die if he ever ended up inside her.

With her in all ways.

And he had been idiotic enough to believe he would seduce her with ease? What sheer stupidity and arrogance. That was only concocted months ago but already Frederick felt himself becoming someone different from who he used to be. He'd changed since he set foot here. This woman had changed him, and he had never expected that to happen. He wasn't sure if he liked it. Didn't know if that made him better or worse or nothing.

"And there you go again," she said, her voice wavering. "Looking at me like I'm something that could possibly interest you. Just tell me what is going on in that mind of yours. What you really think. That's what I wanted to talk about. Because I tire of this game of flame to frost between us."

Enervation came down on him with the force of the world. He had no energy for this. No will to play anymore. She thought he treated her like frost and flame? But in reality, he felt both opposites of the moon and sun when the matter concerned her.

"I think," Frederick said hoarsely, "that this is all too much for me, and I would appreciate all the space and distance I can get before I make up my mind. I didn't get a choice in this-any of this. And this is more than I ever expected."

Lies. Lies. Lies.

He regretted the words as soon as they were said. But he wasn't ready to admit the truth yet. Not even to himself. This scheme was easier to go through if he just kept lying to himself.

It was easier to lie to her so long as he kept lying to himself.

His answer made her shoulders crumble, her expression crestfallen. "Make up your mind to do what? Go back to Thescan?"

Frederick swallowed, the pain in his throat intensifying. "Would you let me?"

She gripped her arms as if shielding herself, calling to his mind her wound from yesterday. He hadn't even asked if she was all right. "Of course I would. I already tried to send you back, remember? After the attack. You aren't a prisoner here, Freddie. And if you don't want to be here, then don't be."

The answer stunned him. To think that she would end their marriage so readily. No fight. No further conversation. No nothing about it.

How should he feel knowing that?

"What are you trying to decide, Frederick?" she asked again, sounding more desperate than before. "I don't know how to fix this thing between us."

"I don't have the answer either," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I suppose I'll just have to get used to how things are here, and that will take me time."

"Do you even want to try?" she asked, her voice breaking as she turned from him. "To have a marriage with me where the both of us are happy. Because we could be happy, you and I, but you're too damn stubborn to see it."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Of course I want us to be happy."

"I make mistakes," she continued, as if never hearing him. "I'm not the perfect wife. But I want to make you happy, Frederick. And we could make each other happy. But you don't want to give this a chance at all."

He shook his head. "This is not a conversation you and I should have right now. Not when my mind is so-so unsettled."

She blinked up at the sky, as though summoning her strength to control herself. "All right."

Frederick swallowed. "All right."

She cleared her throat. "I should take you back."

"We can still go for that walk, Arabella," he suggested, even though he didn't want to. His throat tightened with emotion, his body begging to take him anywhere but there. But he couldn't leave her like this. He'd hurt her, and he didn't want to end it that way.

Get used to hurting her. You plan on being the one who betrays her the worst.

Remember that.

She shook her head. "You said you needed the space and distance to make your own decisions. I won't take any more of your time. Give me your arm."

"Don't-don't dismiss me," Frederick said, stepping out of her reach. "I'm trying to bring some sort of compromise between us." Normalcy. Agreement. Closure. Anything that didn't make him leave feeling like this today.

"And what compromise is that?" she asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of the words. "The one where you walk with me today then disappear. Marvelous compromise."

He drew back. "That's so different to what you do, is it?"

"I leave for your benefit," she snarled. "You saw last night what happens when I don't."

"Don't speak of my benefit-you leave for your own benefit instead of facing me."

"Fine," she said. "I leave for my benefit, but the result remains the same." Venom dripped from her eyes, her fangs, her face. "You get the space and distance you need. And yet, you want more?"

"Ara-"

"And you'll get plenty more," she said, returning the way they came, "because whatever you need, I am a slave to."

He followed after her. "Stop walking-"

"I should just send you back to that country of yours," she said over her shoulder. "That would give you plenty of distance and space. Then you would be away from me-this monster that you're married to. You wouldn't have to look at me with hate and conflict and disgust and-"

She snatched her from the path and took her in his arms, gripping tight as her body tensed. "Don't vanish. Not yet. Let's not finish this conversation like this. Please. I can't stand it."

Lies and more lies.

Lie to yourself.

Pretend this is part of a strategy to make her vulnerable.

Pretend that after all of this, you won't hesitate to betray her when the time is right.

Fuck. What was he doing?

Her rigid body loosened, her exhale brushing his neck. He thought she would deny him this. Thought she would force him to let her go, but she said, "Well, of course, I won't vanish, you fool. You've never held me like this. No one ever has. Not once. Think I-" Her chest heaved against him. "Think I could miss this for anything?"

Sympathy welled within him as they remained that way, and he gently rocked her shoulders. Such a sad, lonely life she had. He hadn't thought about his words or the way he said them. To see this hurt and need from her made her seem vulnerable.

Almost human.

He turned his head to rest his chin atop her, her soft hair tickling his skin. "And?"

"And what?" she asked.

"What do you think of being held so far?"

Her chuckle rubbed his body, warming and comforting. "It's ... all right. I understand what the fuss is about."

His chest rumbled with his laughter, and he held her tighter. "You needed this. I feel it in you."

"You and I ... we fit very well."

The words stunned him because couldn't help but feel the same. And he was shocked at the bitter disappointment that filled him as she drew away.

Yes, he chided himself. Pretend she doesn't affect you at all.

"Something wet hit my cheek," she said. "Are you ... crying?"

His brows drew together. "I'm not crying."

A drop landed on his arm, and he looked skyward as more followed.

"Rain," he murmured.

"Rain?"

She spun in a slow circle, her eyes and mouth wide with amazement.

"Arabella?"

"Rain ..." she said breathlessly. Wondrously. "Rain?" Droplets splashed her cheeks, dotted her eyelashes, dampening her dress, and she stretched her arms as though she could capture it all. "I never thought I'd see rain again."

Frederick quickly removed his cloak and covered her with it. He drew her into his arms and held her, and she looked up at him with amazement. It was then he realized she'd been young-so young-when she'd been turned.

Just how young?

Her eyes trailed over his face to his lips, eyelashes shadowing whatever stirred in her eyes. "I want to tell you..." she said softly, "to let me go enjoy the rain, but..." She tugged his arms to hold her tighter. "But now that you've held me, I might not ..." Her lips split into a grin, and his heart came to a stop. "I might not want you to let me go. Not ever."

And another realization occurred to him: it would be the perfect place for their first kiss.

Beneath the rain.

She would never forget it.

But to put his lips to one who had likely consumed an ocean of blood ...

He was far too undecided to take it further, even if now was the perfect time for them, and guilt assailed him as he looked away. Somehow he felt deprived of something great. But he had to remember that he planned to betray her the worst anyone ever had. And giving them memories like these would only make it harder to do what he needed to do when the time came. "We should go back."

"Of course," she said, clenching the cloak beneath her throat. "Mortals can die from this kind of chill, can't they? Let's get you back."

She reached for his cheek, and he focused on the brown of her eyes as the world became chill and blur. When it stopped, she removed her hand. "I hope you get the simplicity you desire. I won't force my presence on you for a long while yet." Her brows drew together. "But if for some reason you need me, just call for me. So long as I'm not at war, I'll come to you."

Frederick went to speak but she vanished, leaving him alone with the space and distance he asked for.