And when she did, that awareness between us ached like a wound that had begun to fester.
It wasn’t like Samara and I didn’t have a history of hostility and distrust, but even during those tumultuous years, Samara had never ignored me.
She’d never loathed my existence.
“How is she?” Draven asked. His tone was even, but a little more red bled into his eyes.
I rubbed my face. “Her cycle started a few days ago and ended last night. She’s due to have dinner with Carmilla, Lucian, and Demetri in an hour.”
Understanding dawned on Draven’s face, and his eyes turned a deep solid red. “And this is the woman you willingly serve?Samara’s blood is still running through your veins. That crown isn’t forcing your loyalty.”
“You’re the son of the Seelie King.” I bared my teeth. “Don’t lecture me about conflicting loyalties when the blood that runs throughyourveins is the same as the man who’s slaughtered thousands of us.”
He fell silent for a moment, and I started to leave.
“Velika was never a mother to me.” I stopped and turned back to face the prince. “She always hated me. I never understood why . . . and now that she’s dead, I suppose I never will, but for a while, I thought Erendriel might actually act like a loving parent. Unlike my mother, he did have my loyalty—for a brief amount of time anyway.”
“What happened?”
Draven hadn’t talked about Erendriel since telling me who he truly was. Whatever spell had been cast on the Moroi Prince to keep him from talking had clearly been broken. Or maybe he’d been lying about that all along. Samara might have trusted him, but I still didn’t.
But do you still trust Carmilla?a voice whispered in the back of my mind. I didn’t have an answer.
A humorless smile stretched across Draven’s face. “I learned that the Fae King does not love—only uses—and one can either volunteer to be of use . . . or be forced to be.”
Guilt and unease rose, but I kept it off my face. Carmilla had made it clear that Draven was the enemy. She claimed she was only keeping him alive to use against his father, but I suspected the real reason was because she saw Draven as a way to control Samara.
It seemed like one way or another, the Moroi Prince had been a pawn for most of his life. His mother had controlled him with her half of the crown, and his father had used Fae magic to bind him. Carmilla condemned Draven because he was half Fae . . .but he hadn’t had a choice in any of it. Now, she was going to use that crown to manipulate and bind other Moroi . . . the same way Draven’s parents had done to him.
Her intentions might be good, but that didn’t make it right . . . did it?
“When I was twelve, Erendriel took me away from Velika,” Draven continued. “I lived with the wraiths for a while. Up until that point, he hadn’t taken much of an interest in me. I didn’t want to be anywhere near Velika, so I did my best to prove my worth.”
“What were they like?”
Until recently, we’d thought the wraiths were just strange shadow monsters that plagued our lands. There had been some speculation that they were related to the disappearance of the Fae, but not that the Seelie had turned into the wraiths. It still seemed strange to me because it had been the Unseelie who’d had shadow magic. So how had it been that Seelie were the ones turned into nothing but shadows?
I thought of that hideaway we’d found near the lake in the Velesian territory. So many answers could lie there, or in the journals we’d found in the cave near House Harker. I hadn’t mentioned either of those things to Carmilla. It felt like my loyalty was being pulled in multiple directions, and I no longer knew which way was right.
Draven flinched and rubbed his forehead. “There are still some things I cannot speak of.” A look of concentration fell over the prince’s face, as if he was piecing his thoughts together. “I do not know the specifics of the spell that was cast over my tongue, but I’ve been able to piece some things together over the years. When something I am forbidden to say becomes open knowledge, it seems to fall out of the scope of the spell.”
“Like when Carmilla announced your lineage,” I said, following his logic.
“Yes.” He nodded. “It’s happened for other things too. However, every time a new secret is revealed, it’s as if the spell reworks itself and I have to figure out what I can and cannot say again.” He paused—another wince of pain—then shook his head. “I cannot say anything more on the matter.”
“Convenient,” I muttered.
His eyes full of fire snapped to me. “You don’t know what it’s like to not be in control of your own mind. But don’t worry—as soon as the strength of Samara’s blood runs out, I have no doubt Carmilla will give you a taste.”
It was my turn to flinch as his words struck at exactly what I feared.
“If anything happens to Samara while I’m locked up down here, nothing will stop me from getting to you.” Draven leaned forward, something feral swirling in his eyes. “I’ll make you suffer in ways you can’t even dream of.”
“Save your threats for someone else. I won’t allow any harm to come to her.”
Draven laughed darkly. “You already have.”
Again, I flinched.
