She glanced at me, eyes burning with fury.
“I’m not going to stop you,” I told her. “Personally, I’m sick of hearing his voice, so his death is very appealing to me.”
Demetri started to protest but went still when Samara adjusted the blade so it was resting right over his pulse. One move from her, and his lifeblood would be pouring out. He’d survive—if he got help immediately—which was unlikely, given that we were three floors down and he wouldn’t be able to call for the guards with a slit throat.
“There will be consequences if you do this.” My voice was calm, not giving a hint as to what outcome I preferred. Mostly because I didn’t know. I wanted Demetri dead; every time he opened his mouth and made a claim on Samara, it took all my willpower not to slam his head repeatedly into a wall until it was nothing but a bloody mess.
But I wasn’t lying. If Samara killed Demetri, she would be punished.
“I don’t care,” she half growled at me.
Logically, I knew I should stop her or at least try to talk her down, but it wasn’t like she’d listen to me. If anything, my apparent disapproval would spur her on. There was also the fact that Ilikedseeing Samara like this. Most of the time, she floated around in her pretty dresses and perfectly brushed hair, but I remembered the Samara who had thrown a dagger across a courtyard to land between my fingers. The one who had taken out a howler with a crossbow shot most of my rangers wouldn’t have been able to manage.
Beneath her beautiful exterior, Samara was a ruthless and cunning predator. It was one of the many things I loved about her.
“Vail will be punished,” Demetri said carefully. “He’s responsible for you.”
Something dark and dangerous flickered in her gaze before she looked away from me. “I don’t care,” she repeated before digging the blade in a little more. Blood started to drip from the new cut.
She might as well have taken that knife and stabbed me. It certainly felt like she had.
“Draven!” Demetri rasped. “She’ll hurt him to hurt you.”
Samara froze and slowly turned her head to look at me for confirmation.
“You’ve made it quite clear how you feel about me.” I held her unflinching gaze. “I’ll be punished because I allowed it to happen, but Carmilla will have to punish you as well. She wouldn’t want to cause you any lasting harm . . . so it makes sense she’d use Draven.”
I didn’t mention that there were many calling for the prince’s public execution within the walls of the Sovereign House. Now that Queen Velika was dead, some of her enemies who had been too scared to speak out while she was alive were targeting her son.
My feelings about Draven were complicated. He was half Fae and his father was the leader of the bloody wraiths. Now that we knew the wraiths were just Seelie Fae fucked-up by shadow magic, it made me even more wary of the Fae in general. It felt like nothing good could come of them, so part of me was inclined to agree that Draven should be . . . eliminated.
But I’d also seen the way he looked at Samara. Oddly, it didn’t make me jealous. Just grateful that she had another ruthless bastard in her life who loved her and would do anything to keep her safe.
Moons fucking damn me. How had everything gotten so fucking complicated?
The hand Samara had on Demetri’s chest slipped down a little, and she leaned forward until her chest was pressed against the bars, her mouth inches from his ear.
“Next time I have a blade in my hand, I’m going to cut off your fucking head. Remember that. In the meantime”—she pulled the dagger away from his throat, flipping it in her hand and stabbing it down all in one smooth motion—“crawl.”
Demetri released a strangled scream as Samara buried the dagger in his heart, holding it in place for a few seconds before releasing it and stepping back.
I wasn’t the least bit ashamed to say the whole thing made me hard as a rock. Gods, she was such a vicious little cunt.
“Help,” Demetri panted as he slid to the ground, his hands holding the blade securely against his chest. If he removed it, he’d probably bleed to death before he made it up the stairs. I glanced at the door and calculated the steps. He might make it. Moroi could recover from quite a bit. It would depend on how fast the guards reacted too.
I gave him a bored look. “You heard what the Heir said. I’d hold that dagger still and get to crawling.”
Demetri glared at me. I knew I’d get in trouble for this. Carmilla had . . . concerns . . . about how close I was with Samara, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit. Samara and I watched as Demetri tried to rise to his feet, only to let out a hiss of pain, and then proceeded to stumble to the door. He opened it and staggered outside to the stairs, where he gave up all pretense and proceeded to crawl up.
The heavy dungeon door slowly swung closed, and as soon as it clicked shut, Samara collapsed. I barely caught her before she hit the ground.
“Don’t touch me,” she growled. It was kind of a pathetic growl though, so I ignored it and picked her up, cradling her against myself. Then I walked to the same spot on the backwall of her cell where we’d been resting earlier and settled back down. Samara remained stiff in my arms, but she didn’t fight to get free. I didn’t have any delusions about that being because she liked being close to me. Violent shivers were running through her body, and she kept jerking in my grip and sucking in harsh breaths.
“Do you need more tea?” I asked quietly, even though I really didn’t like the thought of leaving her. She’d made a good show of things with Demetri, but it was clear it had taken a lot out of her. I was the only ally she had here—other than Draven, but he was locked in a cell several floors below us.
“Won’t help,” she ground out.
Wordlessly, I reached out and gathered up the blankets she’d cast aside earlier to toss them over her. Samara shuddered but remained stiff against me. Then I adjusted the blankets until I was satisfied. Demetri would be reaching the guards soon, which meant, in an hour or less, Carmilla would likely be summoning me.
