Page 79 of The Art of Exiley

My phone!

Who knows what damning messages might have come through whileI was unconscious? I was with Rafe. What if he saw? In my panic, I have difficulty fumbling for my pocket, but thankfully, my phone is there, locked and seemingly undisturbed.

I hear a soft knock, and I shove the phone back in my pocket before the door opens. Rafe strides over to me, owning the space in a way that can only mean this is his room. His bed. I swallow with the realization of the source of the heady scent from moments ago.

He hands me a goblet of tea. “I brought this from the infirmary. It will help you feel better, though you should be mostly healed by now.”

“Thanks,” I croak, my voice dry and raspy.

As I drink, I avoid looking at Rafe. I can’t believe I slept in his bed. Where did he sleep? My cheeks grow warm at the thought.

As if he can read my mind, he says, “Don’t worry. I left you to sleep alone. This is the first time I’ve been back since last night.” I nod in thanks and try to finish the drink as fast as possible so I can get out of here. We’re both being awkwardly quiet. Or at least, I am. Rafe seems lost in his own thoughts.

The drink—some kind of herbal concoction—really does make me feel better. As my head begins to clear, more hazy memories of the previous night come back to me. I’m surprised by Rafe’s helpfulness. But he lied to Kaylie, saying the Inquisitors weren’t involved when he thought they were. Even if it couldn’t have actually been the Inquisitors, I don’t understand why Rafe would hide seemingly important information.

Being in Rafe’s bed is uncomfortably intimate, so I climb out. Cool air on my exposed skin reminds me of my party attire, which feels far too revealing for these circumstances. I slide on my shoes and cross my arms, hugging myself. Rafe stoically hands me his leather jacket. It’s too big, but I burrow into it, seeking a barrier between myself and all this awkwardness.

“Why did you help me?” I ask him. He looks like he might be wondering the same thing, his expression even scowlier than usual.

“Losing you to the Inquisitors would have been wasteful and inconvenient. You’re useful to Maker society and should not be in the hands of our enemies.”

Useful.What an ass.

And he’s not finished being offensive. “You’re a gravdamn Sire. They shouldn’t have been able to overpower you. You have no sense of your own abilities.”

This dude literally can’t open his mouth without criticizing me. But I don’t rise to his bait. I’m not in the mood for a fight, and there’s too much I need to understand.

“What did your date and your cousin do to me anyway?” I ask accusingly.

“Leo is only a distant relation, but he, like so many others, likes to use the title liberally to garner favor by claiming connection to the Crown.”

“Well, I need to understand what happened.”

He rocks back on his heels and runs his hands through his hair, sighing as if this is the last conversation in the world he wants to be having. “I suppose you have the right to know.” He looks up and states it frankly. “They stole some of your blood.”

The blood that is still in my body chills. “What for?”

“They practice Blood Science, which occasionally necessitates actual blood. But never another Maker’s blood,nevera Sire’s blood.”

“Whose blood is normally used, then?” I ask, pretty sure I don’t actually want to know the answer.

“Animal or philistine.”

I have heard others from Avant use the term philistine to mean provincial. “So theydouse human blood?” I ask, my anger rising.

“Provincial human,” Rafe clarifies, as if it makes a difference.

I grind my teeth at his insinuation that provincial people are equal to animals, but it’s nothing new for him.

“Regardless.” His tone turns menacing. “I won’t let them get away with what they did.” He clenches his jaw, and the veins in his neck stand out. “I wasn’t forthright with Master Botticelli last night because I’d rather Genesis not see Guard insubordination, but I will tell Alex, and those miscreants will suffer the consequences. Once I’ve gotten all the information I need out of them.”

“What kind of information?”

“I received news after we arrived back last night.” He looks away, and his shoulders slump. I notice for the first time that his hair is lank, and his skin lacks its normal luminescence. He’s… rumpled. It’s perhaps the first time I’ve seen His Royal Highness look anything less than perfect.

“The Inquisitors are running rampant, and no one is doing enough,” he says, speaking more to himself than to me.

“What was the news?” I ask with a growing sense of foreboding.

---