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one more thing to ask you. How far should I trust Elias Warner?”
    His smile wasn’t pleasant. “If you remember that his most powerful instinct is to preserve his own skin, you will never go wrong. He’d sell you to the Vampire Council if he thought it would gain him an advantage. But when your interests and his are aligned, you will find him very helpful.”
    “That isn’t very comforting,” Verity muttered as Rhys stood up and stretched, making her all too aware of his well-muscled body and fighter’s lethal grace.
    “It’s not meant to be. If he wanted you dead, he’d kill you before you even realized his intent.”
    “Even if I tried to fight him?”
    “Even then.”
    “So why do I need to prove I can fight if he could kill me so easily?”
    Rhys advanced into the center of the lit circle. “Because Elias is on our side. It’s all the other Vampires who want to stop you from protecting the king and queen that we need to dispose of.”
    He waited patiently for her to join him, his stance relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. “Are you ready, my lady? Do you wish to show me your prowess with a sword or with a dagger?”
    Rhys kept smiling as Verity approached him, her expression dubious, her dagger clenched firmly in her hand. She made an unconvincing boy; her curves were too lush to conform to the lines of her male attire. Not that he minded the sight. Her soft appearance only confirmed his instincts that she would be unable to fight.
    He nodded at her dagger. “You prefer to work in close, then?”
    “I prefer not to fight at all.”
    Her tremulous words made him want to draw her into his arms and hold her tight, but that wasn’t his aim. He needed to show her that she was unsuited to the life of a slayer, and for that to happen he needed to goad her into admitting she couldn’t exist in a world he had come to dominate.
    “Rosalind struggled to lift a sword at first, so I had the smithy make her a lighter blade.” He glanced at the weapons chest. “I’m sure we have one of her blades here. I’ll find it for you.”
    “Rhys, I don’t want to hurt you, so why make me do this?”
    He brought his dagger up to meet hers. “You won’t hurt me.”
    “You are terribly conceited if you think that.” She attempted to stab at him and he dodged easily.
    “Am I?” He smiled at her. “Yet you seem incapable of showing me that I’m wrong.”
    “Because this isn’t a real fight!”
    “Do you think yourself such an expert that you never need to practice?”
    She lunged at him again, and he stepped out of her reach, keeping a mocking smile on his lips that he could see infuriated her.
    “Well? Why haven’t you beaten me yet? I’m hardly even trying.”
    She came at him and he brought his dagger hand up sharply and knocked her blade out of her hands. She made a distressed sound and went down on her knees to retrieve it.
    Before she could rise, he locked his arm around her throat and bared her neck to the edge of his blade. “And now you’d be dead.”
    “Let go of me.” Her voice shook with fury.
    Rhys stepped back and bowed. “Of course, my lady. Shall we proceed or have you had enough?”
    Verity got to her feet, whirled around, and ran out of the room. Rhys watched her go as a mixture of emotions shuddered through him. Had he made her cry? He hoped not. Despite everything, he still needed her to observe the queen closely and report back to him.
    He set off down the tunnel in pursuit, saw light gleam briefly when she climbed the narrow spiral staircase that opened into the floor of the chapel. He increased his pace and soon had her in his sights as she took the less frequented paths back toward the queen’s suite of rooms.
    “My lady—stop.” He called quietly, but she didn’t heed him so he put on a spurt of speed and caught up with her. He touched her shoulder. “Verity.”
    She spun round to confront him, her chest heaving, her blue eyes fierce and quite tearless. “Why