Page 27

While the three of them argued, I focused on Samara. She was trying to smile at their antics but kept failing. I knew why. The fourth problem.

Slowly, I held up my pinky finger to join the other three. I didn’t say it because I wasn’t sure if Samara was willing to broach this topic yet, and if she wanted me to drop it, I would. For now.

But my brave girl held my gaze and didn’t shy away.

“Four,” she said quietly. “Cali.”

Everyone fell silent at the declaration.

That Cali was indeed a problem. She was Samara’s best friend, and we all knew that there was nothing Sam and Rynn wouldn’t do for her, but we also knew the damage Cali could do if she truly lost herself.

If that happened, then all our problem-solving wouldn’t matter.

Because nothing in Lunaria would survive Cali’s wrath.

She hadn’t completely lost it yet, but something was definitely going on with her.

I’d originally met Cali, Rynn, and Samara at Drudonia.

The three of them were close and had tried to befriend me.

Rynn had been the most successful since we were similar in nature.

Samara had been determined to flirt with me—and had mostly fallen flat on her face because she’d been relying too much on her looks and not flaunting that magnificent mind of hers.

Cali had reminded me of my brothers. She was arrogant and brash. Most of our interactions had ended with one of us storming out of the room before violence could erupt.

Most Furies dedicated their lives to keeping their emotions level.

They didn’t allow themselves to feel anything.

Anger. Happiness. Love. Hate. Of all the Moon Blessed, the Furies were the most volatile.

Something about the original spell hadn’t worked quite as well for them as it had for the Velesians and Moroi.

The last couple of generations had stabilized by walling off all their emotions and largely isolating themselves from the rest of Lunaria.

Except Cali.

Few Furies had ever attended Drudonia—and never for years like Cali did—and Cali felt everything .

It had alarmed the shit out of me when I’d first met her, but I’d gradually gotten used to it. Even when her eyes had glowed with rage, Cali had still been in control of herself—of her magic.

But I’d witnessed a couple of interactions with Samara since I’d moved to House Harker.

Something was different about Cali now. There was a chaotic edge to her rage that hadn’t been there during our time at Drudonia, and I’d caught the way Samara looked at her friend now.

It wasn’t with exasperation or amusement like it had been years ago.

Now, Samara looked at her friend with concern and fear.

Not of Cali— for her.

“The Furies that came looking for her wouldn’t give us any specifics,” Alaric said.

“One of them was worried.” Kieran frowned. “Furies are so hard to read, but there was just something about him that made me think he was personally concerned about Cali.”

“Big guy with dark, golden blond hair shaved on the sides?” Samara asked.

“Yeah.” Kieran nodded. “You know him?”

Suddenly, Draven and Alaric were very interested in her answer. I rolled my eyes, not the least bit concerned with Samara’s past lovers. She was mine now. Ours. That was all that mattered.

“Malachi.” Samara pursed her lips. “He and Cali were involved a few years ago. The elders demanded that they break it off; they felt the two were growing too close. Cali refused . . . but Malachi did as he was ordered.”

“Idiot,” Kieran muttered.

Alaric gave his friend a stern look. “It may seem harsh, but the methods the elders have put in place are working. Only a handful of Furies have fallen in the last century.”

“We can save the debate on the approach the Furie elders have dictated for another day.” Samara rubbed her face.

“I need to find Cali and see for myself how she’s doing .

. . and talk to her about Rynn—convince her that slaughtering the Alpha Pack to break Rynn out of their stronghold isn’t a good idea. ”

I winced. I hadn’t even thought about that. Here was hoping that wasn’t where Cali had disappeared to. The only thing worse than the Velesians going to war against the Moroi was them doing it against the Furies. We’d be caught in the middle with no good option on who to support.

“Once we reach House Devereux, I’ll ask Thessalia and Taivan to send rangers to search for her—discreetly,” I offered. “Desmond is an excellent tracker; he’ll probably choose to lead one of the groups.”

“Thank you.” Samara gave me a grateful smile.

“Of course.” I hesitated slightly before asking, “And what information did you want to share with us? We might as well get everything out there.”

Please don’t be something really bad , I prayed to the gods, who I was pretty sure were long dead. We already had enough to deal with.

“The crown . . . is sentient.” Samara let out a long breath while we all stared at her, wide-eyed. “It spoke to me.”

“The crown,” I said slowly. “It spoke to you? Like with actual words?”

“That’s usually how speaking works,” she said dryly.

I scowled at her. “Nothing I’ve ever read has implied that Fae artifacts could speak.”

Samara smirked at me. I refused to acknowledge how adorable she was and frowned harder, which only had her devilish eyes sparking with amusement. I was so going to punish her later.

“Did it ever converse with you ?” Kieran glanced at Draven, who just shook his head.

“Yeah . . . about that.” Samara’s gaze fell on Draven. “I think the crown only speaks to the Seelie royal bloodline. Turns out your asshole father is a fake. He’s not the true Seelie King—my paternal grandfather was.”

“Your grandfather?” Alaric asked at the same time Kieran yelled, “ I’m fucking a princess ?!”

“ We’re fucking a princess,” I corrected him and held up a hand, shushing him before he could ramble on. “Samara, please elaborate.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a whole lot more to share,” she admitted. “Turns out, the crown is kind of sensitive, and I hurt its feelings. It refused to talk to me after that, and I never got a chance to make up for my rudeness.”

“How exactly does one offend a crown?” Draven gave Samara a lopsided grin. “You’re such an overachiever.”

Samara gave him an obscene gesture that had his grin widening enough to show off his fangs.

“So you’re half Fae—or at least close to it.” I ignored their antics and studied Samara’s face, trying to see how I’d missed that before. Then again, we really didn’t know much about what the Fae looked like other than that they had tapered ears—something that neither Samara nor Draven had.

“Your father had to have known what he was . . .” Alaric trailed off before pointing at Draven. “Do you have magic like him?”

“I have a name, you know,” Draven drawled.

“Nobody cares,” Alaric replied in a bored tone.

“Pretty sure at least two people in this room do.” Draven winked at me. “And I’m definitely growing on Rothie Bear .”

I narrowed my eyes at the prince. “I will carve you apart and have Alaric help me dispose of the remains if you ever call me that again.”

“This bonding session is going fabulously, I’ve got to say.” Kieran laughed.

A small grin tugged at the corners of Samara’s mouth as her eyes scanned each of us. “So . . . none of you care that I’m at least part Fae?”

“I mean, obviously we all find you hideous now,” I told her seriously before jerking my head towards Kieran. “Except him.” My gaze slid pointedly to Draven before flicking back to Kieran. “He’s clearly into the whole Fae thing.”

“Maybe we can use him to suss out any other Fae amongst us,” Alaric suggested.

“With his dick?” I tapped a nail against my bottom lip. “Kind of curious if it would work. Would we, like, lead him around on a leash like one of those hounds from the Fae murals?”

Draven and Samara glared at the both of us, but Kieran just chuckled.

“No, babe.” I smirked at Samara. “We don’t give a fuck about the Fae blood running through your veins. Any other surprises for us?”

“I spoke to a wraith while I was imprisoned.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the headboard. “Apparently, with Velika dead, Erendriel is seeking a new alliance and would prefer me over my aunt.”

“Which wraith?” Draven asked sharply. The charming prince was gone, and only a predator remained. One who sensed another encroaching on his territory.

“Serill,” Samara supplied.

“Shit,” Draven swore, concern bleeding into his stare as he looked at Samara. “He’s basically my father’s right hand. I suspected he would be the one leading the hunt after me . . . I don’t like that he’s so interested in you.”

“What exactly did he say?” I asked, already thinking through the implications of facing a fight on two sides—Carmilla and Erendriel.

We listened as Samara recapped the short conversation, and Draven paled when Samara finished with Serill promising to return in three days . . . which, at this point, meant two more nights.

“How easily will he be able to track her?” I asked Draven.

“Unless we’re behind a very strong ward in two days”—he rubbed his forehead—“we should expect a visit from Serill.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “So we have two days to figure out how to either hide from the wraiths . . . or what to tell Serill to buy us more time when he comes calling.”

“Erendriel isn’t the patient sort,” Draven warned. “And Serill hasn’t risen to where he is by disappointing the Seelie King.”

“Fake Seelie King,” I pointed out.

Draven shrugged. “He’s the one currently sitting on the throne, so he’s the Seelie King now.”

“Do we think there’s a throne?” Kieran perked up. “And do we think we can steal it?”

“Dethrone the diabolical queen, rescue the lonely sentient crown, find out what the fuck is going on with my besties, and figure out how to outmaneuver beings known for being clever.” Light sparked in Samara’s deep purple eyes. “Sounds fun.”