At the end of supper, Tristan walks beside me as we leave the dining room. We take our time in our stroll through the halls, although I continuously peek behind us in search of a moody king.

“Thanks for inviting me to sit with everyone,” I say, admiring the toothy grin Tristan shares.

“I know how awkward it is to be new. I started barely a year ago, and I didn’t work up the nerve to speak with anyone for almost a week,” he explains.

“That’s hard to believe. You approached me easily enough.”

“What can I say? You’re very approachable.”

I chuckle. “Was that meant to be a compliment?”

Tristan shrugs. “It is if you want it to be.”

“Thanks, I guess I’ll—” I fall silent when Sylas’ figure turns the corner. The nearest open room becomes an immediate hiding spot. Luckily, Sylas had been speaking with someone and facing them, so he didn’t see me. At least, I don’t think so, since he hasn’t yanked me out of the room yet.

“What are you doing?” Tristan asks.

I press a finger to my lips, shushing him, and he shares a concerned look. Understandable. I may appear a little bonkers at the moment. Waving my hand, he enters the room and I keep my back to the wall, waiting for Sylas’ heavy steps to pass.

“I do not want excuses,” Sylas snarls, sounding close. “If you cannot get the job done, then I will go myself.”

“I understand your frustration, Your Majesty, but it would not be wise to leave the capital right now,” a woman says. Her voice passes by the door and I hold my breath. Vampires have freakishly good hearing, so who knows, he may hear the air whistling between my teeth.

“Are you trying to imply that I cannot handle some rebellious civilians?” Sylas huffs.

“I know better than to imply such a thing, but we do not know whether Ezra may be behind these attacks. All of this may be an attempt to bring you out into the open. We must tread carefully,” the woman replies.

“We have been treading carefully, and it has resulted in that bastard continuing to breathe for far too long,” Sylas’ voice fades along with their footsteps. With the hall empty, a relieved breath escapes my lips.

“Care to explain why we were hiding?” Tristan asks.

“His Majesty looked to be in a bad mood.” My legs carry me swiftly toward our living quarters. Tristan skips twice to keep up with my pace. “Do you know what they were talking about? A rebellion of some sort?”

Tristan nods and glances about the hall, ensuring no one is around to hear his whispered words. “There have been a couple of them over the years, the rebels argue His Majesty doesn’t deserve the throne since he is the child of an affair, that he doesn’t respect the Benait ways, and that he didn’t request a proper trial.”

“What trial? He has to pass some sort of kingship test?”

“No, they are more brutal than that. Undying Sovereigns battle to the death for the throne. A member of the royal family can challenge another to battle. When they happen, they are big events, months of planning, then they battle in the arena located outside the capital for all to see. Whoever survives rules over Benait until another slays them. His Majesty didn’t do this. He and his soldiers stormed the capital, and he beheaded Viktor somewhere in these halls.”

“That is an… interesting way to choose a ruler,” I mumble.

“And how do they choose in Gragoria?”

“The crown passes from the current ruler to their eldest child, but Gragoria has a new ruler, too. Who knows how he may pass on rulership?” If at all.

“Right, I heard about him. Kain something, he had a cure for the Weeping Plague, didn’t he?”

“I honestly paid little attention to who came up with what. We all were just grateful to have survived.”

Tristan clearly wants to ask me about my experience with the illness, but I have no intention of reliving it. Any of it. My fingers flex, then I slip them into my pockets.

“So, these rebels, do they want this Ezra person to rule?” I ask.

Tristan looks left to right again, then leans in to whisper against the shell of my warming ear. “I don’t know for sure, but I have heard my fair share of people arguing for Ezra’s right to the throne. He was the youngest of Viktor’s children, known for his intelligence, and the Yarvelis family ruled for as long as history recalls. I imagine many would prefer him over His Majesty. Ezra escaped during the siege and there have been rumors he is building up an army of his own.”

“I can understand why His Majesty doesn’t want anyone speaking about this. He must have an awful headache from all this drama.”

Tristan retreats and releases a laugh so warm that the sun would envy it. “I certainly would if I were him. Maybe that’s why he fires so many attendants. He’s too irritable for them.” Then he frowns. “Oh, I didn’t say that to make you worry. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. It is better that I know the truth so I can prepare.” We reach the stairs and slowly ascend them. “Can you tell me about his last attendant? Harvey only said that he was abruptly fired.”

Tristan gestures for me to step ahead of him into the lounge first. Rather than retire to his bedroom for the evening, he sits on the couch and I take the cushion beside him.

“Do not take everything I say as gospel,” he says. “Others probably know more than me, but from what I’ve heard, he has had a dozen attendants. One story says someone stole from his personal chambers and no one saw her afterward.”

“You don’t suppose he killed that attendant, do you?”

I still can’t fathom Sylas as a killer for any reason. I can’t imagine him seeking revenge, even if I understand why he would.

Lord Sarraze was a father to him through and through. He doted on Sylas and he was kind to everyone. His encouragement helped me learn witchcraft. I’ve always been grateful, even if sometimes I regret having learned. I won’t deny that I find it fitting to know the man who caused his death is dead. That doesn’t change how hard it is to imagine Sylas being the one to have taken Viktor’s head. It is one of two ways to slay a vampire, the other being to burn them. Both are brutal acts and, as children, Sylas couldn’t even swat flies.

“I do not, but I also do not think she left the castle unharmed,” Tristan replies, returning me to the present. “I understand you want to learn more about His Majesty, but must we talk about this somber stuff? It can get depressing.”

“Fine. Is there something else you would like to talk about?”

“What is Gragoria like? I’ve never left the capital, so share some details.”

“I fear you won’t find it all that interesting.”

A playful glint twinkles in his eyes. “Let me decide that for myself.”

For a while, Tristan and I talk about where we grew up. I thought speaking of home would make me miss it, but I don’t. Not the town. Not the people. Especially not the memories, save for Mother and Sarraze. I miss her wind chimes. I should have brought one with me to put in my window. Maybe I’ll buy one in town. Other than that, it’s actually relaxing to be a kingdom away. There isn’t a constant need to search every corner and suspect every shadow.

Tristan speaks of the lower districts here in the city where he grew up. It’s more of a residential area than one for shops, but those living there don’t have a lot of money. He landed a job at the castle from sheer dumb luck after meeting a man who had quit. Tristan ran to apply for the position. He talks a lot, and it’s easy speaking with him. Before I know it, all the lights are out and my aching lungs make every breath into a harsh wheeze, then a cough.

“Your lungs?” Tristan settles a hand on my shoulder, which warms from the touch. “Is there medicine in your room? Do you want me to grab it?”

“No, I’m well enough to get it and it is getting late.” I don't want him to watch me make the medicine, either. I don't plan to hide that I'm a witch forever, but for now, it would be nice to keep a few friends.

I glance about the lounge to find that we’re the only ones awake. “We should get to bed.”

Tristan looks around the room too. “You’re right. It was nice speaking with you. If you need help with anything, seek me out, and if you want to chat again, I’m sure you have learned that I am very hard to shut up.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I have been told that I can be a little annoying.”

“Maybe whoever said that is boring.”

“Maybe.” Tristan chuckles, then wishes me goodnight and scurries to the second hall.

After taking my medicine and changing, I fall into bed, pleased by today’s events. Sylas doesn’t know I’ve stayed. I haven’t run into him yet. I’ve learned a little more about what has been going on. The job seems easy enough, at least in terms of my expectations, perhaps not whom I am serving. I’ve met the other staff, and then there’s Tristan. Nice, cute, easy to talk to, and even easier on the eyes.

Groaning, I bury my face into the pillows. “Don’t get flustered. He’s being nice, that’s all.”

It is so like me to get my hopes up. The last time I did, I ended up with Colton, a filthy cheater, and the man before him was the greatest mistake of my life. Besides, once he learns I’m a witch, he may not want to be friends anymore.

“Be careful,” I say to myself, more specifically my far too simple heart. I slap my chest as if to reprimand it.

You can skip and flutter about the nice, cute guy hanging around, so long as that’s all it is; enjoying from a distance. Besides, you have more important matters to focus on, like surviving your new position.