It took all night, but Viscon made hundreds of water barrels vanish.

The vampyre traveled between Thescan to Carnelia, the speed at which he filled the barrels and the strength he used to lift several of them at a time was astonishing.

Frederick felt useless as he watched the man working. The labors he performed with four horses took Viscon mere seconds. But as the sky paled from navy lavender, the vampyre moved slower and slower.

"Viscon," Frederick said, "it's nearly dawn. I think we've done all we can do for tonight."

Viscon panted and gripped the bridge of his nose. "Just a moment. I-I can do more."

"There are hardly any barrels left," Frederick insisted. "At this rate, I don't think you'll be able to take us back to Carnelia."

The King's Council would discover their ploy to help Carnelia soon, but still, Frederick could defend the decision. That wouldn't always be the case with his new wife. It had become a matter of which action led to the more severe consequence-and the King's Council had never seen a woman rip off a man's flesh like meat from a bone ...

Didn't mean he wanted to be in Thescan when the King's Council found out about the water.

"Just a moment," Viscon said.

Frederick raised a brow. "The evening guards have ignored us as instructed, but the guards coming soon can't afford to be so lenient in broad daylight. I'd rather spare myself the interrogation from the-"

Viscon's eyelids flickered, and he swayed on his feet before stumbling. Frederick shouted for him but couldn't reach him before he hit the ground. He rushed to Viscon and tapped his cheek, but Viscon didn't respond. "Viscon! Viscon."

He didn't wake up, and Frederick sat back on his knees, sighing at the sun as it peered from below the horizon. He had to make a decision and fast, and there was little time to make it.

#

Viscon gasped, the wagon creaking as he shot upright. "Master?"

"I'm here," Frederick called.

Viscon removed the blanket from his head and sucked down great gasps of air, blinking wildly at the surroundings of the forest.

Frederick lowered the reins to rest on the hook, then crossed his arms. "You pushed yourself too hard, Viscon. You should have told me you were exhausted."

Viscon vanished, reappearing on the driver's box by Frederick's side. "Pass the reins, Master."

"I'd like to steer the horses, if that's all right." Viscon shook his head, and Frederick was learning fast: Viscon had pride. Stubborn pride. "I miss my horses, so I'd like to spend as much time as possible before I send them back. And by send them back, I don't mean asking you to take them." He eyed the weary vampyre. "My beasts have a sense of direction unmatched by other horses. We will take them to the Carnelian castle, then escort them to the border and set them free."

Viscon swallowed. "You do not fear that the horses become lost or eaten?"

Frederick shrugged. "They are intelligent animals. They never get lost, and they certainly never get eaten. We build upon their already acute sense of smell to detect predators from miles away. I've taken them many places, gone to battle, and found them back where they belong when it's all over."

"Do all of them return home?"

Frederick tilted his head from side to side, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his neck. "No. Not all of them."

"And if they never go home?"

"Then they wish to be their own masters. Each horse has served me well, all of them with a loyalty more rigid than that of my men. If freedom is what they wish, then freedom is what they've earned."

They traveled for a while, and Frederick gave Viscon the space to return his strength. He used the silence to cast his mind back to the last time he'd traveled through this forest. The one and only time he tried to get to Carnelia.

Once, in his adolescent years, Frederick had fled Thescan and made a run for the center of the Star. The trees were greener then, the landscape lush. His grandfather built the dam decades before, and Frederick traveled for days until the streams ran dry and the land became nothing more but sludge and muck. His confidence in his survival had been severely overestimated, and his father's soldiers found him not long after. The beating that followed was not from his father, but the Gentle King. He could still see the blood dripping from his uncle's rings, the rubies weeping ...

Strange.

Back then he had no other goal but to escape. He'd tried to escape several times before, all his runaway attempts thwarted. Carnelia had been his last resort, and compelled to see the strange land for himself, he reasoned that there was no monster worse than his uncle. Not even the Carnelians and their fearsome queen.

The place he traveled through now was unfamiliar. Nothing like he remembered. The dry land made the sound of hooves stomping on it almost painful to listen to. Branches sagged, brown leaves curling from twigs, framing them in a dehydrated prison. Incredible, the effects of time. In another decade it would be even worse. Unless, of course, Frederick found the means to stop it.

"The further along we go, the blacker the trees," Viscon said, as if hearing his thoughts. "The Gentle King had the forest burned, ensuring Carnelia would not benefit from their neighbors any longer than necessary, finishing his father's work."

Frederick clicked his tongue. "Bastards, the both of them. I hadn't known about the burning." But even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. Not back then. Not for the vampyres and the many things they lost.

And now, Frederick? he asked himself.

Did he care about the things they lost and what they continued to lose? Even knowing about that prison with those men strung up by their wrists, fighting to keep their torsos level for fear of hurting his companion on the same skewer ...

No. The vampyres had savagery that was beyond Frederick's understanding. He did not have to care for them. They found ways to survive, even without his misplaced sympathy.

Viscon tilted, looking back at the wagon. "You maneuvered this gigantic barrel by yourself?"

"There is nothing that four men and several strategic planks of wood can't accomplish," Frederick answered. "We pushed this thing until it settled."

Viscon raised both brows. "The guards helped you?"

"I didn't have to ask."

"And the King's Council-"

"Should know by now. But we got out of there before they could find out." Frederick attempted to give Viscon a reassuring smile. "I did not get into any trouble. The queen won't be having your hide."

"Of course she wouldn't. The queen ... she is merciful to me. So very merciful." The line between his brows deepened, and it was then that Frederick noticed the gray hue to Viscon's skin, his lips tinged with blue.

"Viscon, you don't look well."

Viscon gave a shaky grin, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm quite fine, thank you."

Frederick hung the reins and gripped his elbows. "They say vampyres burn in the sunlight. The queen admitted they have an aversion to it. How come you don't?'

"I am only half vampyre. A dhampyre," he said, and Frederick sensed bitterness in the way he said the word. "The sun does become too much for me, but not for days-sometimes weeks if I have enough to drink."

"Enough blood to drink?"

"Or water." His fang dipped into his lip. "I must admit, it was nice to come to Thescan. The servants brought me water without asking. It just seems so luxurious to have it all to myself. A whole pitcher in my room at all times. I could barely bring myself to drink it, knowing Carnelia is going without, but my need to drink it became too strong to resist and I ..." He looked downright troubled. "I drank it. All of it."

Pity weighted Frederick's chest. He had been drinking plenty of it at Carnelia, knowing it was rare but not how rare. "Don't feel guilty for that. Thescan has more water than it can spare. In fact ..." He lowered and retrieved a pitcher from beneath the seat. "I have enough of these to get us through the next few days. Take this one." Viscon shook his head, and Frederick brandished it in his direction. "I won't offer my blood, man. So take the water."

Viscon became flustered. "I would never ask for your blood. It isn't to be borne."

"I'm kidding," Frederick replied, unaware of how offensive the question would be until he said it. He supposed the act of taking blood from another, now that he'd shared it with Arabella, was rather intimate. With the biting, licking, sucking. The way his body had awakened with her lips on his skin. Her teeth in his vein ... "But take the damned water. You're useless to me without your strength."

Viscon quickly accepted it and drank deeply, and he did not protest when Frederick settled the blanket back over Viscon's shoulders. "There's a good soldier."

Another hour may have passed with nothing else to fill the silence but the hooves of the horses. There was no birdsong or signs of animal life. Viscon was right, the trees went from dead bark to burned, the land injured by fire, nothing but ash, dust, and wind.

"Your High-"

"Frederick."

Viscon turned to face him.

Frederick sighed. "If it pleases you, of course. I would prefer that you just call me Frederick."

He shook his head. "I cannot-"

"Then just in private," Frederick said. "When it's just us, please just call me Frederick. You can use that whole 'Master' and 'Your Highness' nonsense for when we have roles to play like we did yesterday." Unease crept into his gut. "But even then, I don't care what you call me in public either."

Viscon gaped, and Frederick did his best to ignore his obvious attention. "You would not take it as a sign of disrespect?"

"Not particularly. Not from you, anyway. You have the strength of twenty men with power beyond my comprehension. What should I care about what someone like you calls me? I doubt many kings in this world could afford to go toe-to-toe with you no matter what you call them."

Viscon shifted in the seat, clenching the blanket against his shoulder. "May I take a moment to speak out of turn, Master?"

"Only if you call me by my given name as I asked. And speak out of turn as often as you please. You don't need to ask for permission."

He smiled broadly, both fangs long and sharp where Arabella's were subtle and dainty. "I knew I would like you."

Frederick took the reins from the hook. "That's good to know, Viscon. I like you, too."

"That's why I want to say-" Viscon inhaled. "I know the queen is hard to get used to-I know that we are hard to get used to. I'm sure you don't know what to make of her yet, but ... she is kind. Sensitive. Intelligent. Generous. I mention these things because perhaps when you start seeing them, you might find her-" He coughed and beat his chest, so obviously struggling to say what he wanted. "Attractive."

"Attractive," Frederick repeated.

"She has been lonely, and I think you might be well-suited to her. Just open your mind, and you might find you will enjoy your time in Carnelia." He rubbed his chest. "But perhaps don't share what I've just said with her. She is rather infamous and won't appreciate my calling her sensitive."

"Yes," Frederick drawled, "as sensitive as a panther gets when you step on its tail. I wonder if she hisses."

Viscon chuckled and faced Frederick, his eyes wide. Frederick grinned. Soon both men laughed until they were hoarse.

"I promise," Viscon said, "she has a gentle side and would be good to someone who gave her the chance."

Frederick gripped the reins. "Someone like Vignolo?"

Viscon shifted in his seat. "The queen is faithful to her husbands-until they give her a reason not to be. And I suppose, even then, she's faithful until they-"

Die. Frederick suspected it didn't take long for them to die once they gave Arabella a reason to kill them.

Viscon tightened the blanket over his chest. "She's different now, and you have more honor than her other husbands."

Frederick viewed the trees until they faded from view. "You don't know anything about me, Viscon."

Viscon raised his head, his lips parting.

"What is it?"

"Something doesn't feel right." Viscon raised his gaze to the sky. "It is dark enough for older vampyres to be out."

"Are there vampyres nearby?"

He shuddered. "I can't tell. They must be-" He shook his head. "Just ... hold on. I promise to be gentle with the horses."

Frederick straightened. "You'll do what with the horses?"

Viscon closed his eyes, and Frederick cursed as the horses faded in front of him. "Viscon-"

The vanishing wasn't as abrupt as the first time. This was slower, guided, cold trickling over Frederick's skin as the world turned into a sliver beneath his feet, flowing like a gentle stream.

It stopped, and they appeared-somewhere close to the Carnelian border if the bloody sky was any indication. The horses gave high-pitched whinnies, their tails flicking with unease. "Easy, darlings. Easy."

"Damn," Viscon said roughly.

"Damn?" Frederick repeated. "Why damn?"

"I-I couldn't-I couldn't-" He swallowed desperately. "I couldn't get us past the border. Please. Make them move as fast as they can. Whip them if you must."

He certainly would not.

"We must get to the border before it's-"

The bang that followed rocked them both so hard that Frederick had to hold onto Viscon to stop him from flying from the seat.