The session with Ash was mercifully short that night. He had quieted down long before dawn. I

hadn’t wanted to leave him, but Graves rolled his eyes and told me he needed some sleep. And I

was so worn-out and jumpy I just gave in.

I turned over, punched my pillow again. Sighed.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” Graves’s voice, not quite a whisper but not normal volume either. I

guess he thought that if he said it that quietly, I had the option of ignoring.

I considered telling him about Anna, but if I did Christophe would come up. That was no good. It

was such a tangle I didn’t even have it right inside my head yet, and until I did I couldn’t hope to

explain it to him in a way that wouldn’t end up with him thinking something I didn’t want him to

think. About Christophe, and more importantly, about me.

I decided to test the waters a little bit, so to speak. “Council meeting didn’t go well.” That was a

massive understatement, as well as kind of a lie. There was no meeting.

Just Anna. And Kir. Very chummy, those two. Little red lapdog, Hiro had said.

“You don’t like those anyway.” Sound of shifting material as he moved.

I scooted to the very edge of the bed. Kept my eyes closed, though, and rested my fingertips on the

edge of the mattress. “This one was even worse than usual.”

As usual, he didn’t need any help getting the message. “That girl, huh. The other svetocha.”

I did not jerk as if stung, but it was a close thing. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Course not. Girl like that.” Graves made a dismissive noise, almost a raspberry. “Bet she’s been

queen bee here a long time. All these boys for her to play with, set ’em against each other. I know

the type.”

Do you know my type, too? I almost asked him, decided it would sound like I was digging for a

compliment or something. “She really seems to hate me, though.” Something surfaced briefly—a

memory, or a dream.

Don’t let the nosferatu bite.

I pushed it away. A shiver raced down my spine.

“Well, duh. You’re cuter than she is.” He said it like he might say, Grass is green or, Gravity works.

Something warm opened up inside my chest. It was a nice feeling. I snorted. “I can’t even get my

hair to lie down.”

“Whatever. Anyway, what happened?”

I tried to get it into some kind of reasonable shape inside my head. Silence stretched between us.

“Jesus,” he said finally. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

Dammit, give me a second to think. “I’m trying to figure out how to say it.”

More silence. I fidgeted. So did he.