“Samara won’t allow her lust to rule her, no matter how hard her body is pushing it,” I swallowed and tried to add some confidence into my voice. “And despite what you think, Carmilla won’t allow anyone to take advantage of her that way.”
“Your precious Carmilla is trying to force her niece back into a marriage she doesn’t want, and she’s arranged for this dinner to occur on the night when the lust haze will be hitting Samara the hardest.” Draven gave me an almost pitying look. “You really don’t see her true intentions, do you?”
“So I’ll attend the dinner.” I snapped. “You’re wrong, but I’ll be there anyway to make sure nothing happens.”
Samara wouldn’t touch that piece of shit, even with the intense desire that hit all Moroi who went through thereproductive cycle. And while my faith in Carmilla was waning, it hadn’t faded enough that I believed she’d allow someone to force themselves on Samara.
Still . . . nothing in Lunaria would keep me from that room. I didn’t know Lucian well, but from what I’d seen this week, he was a cruel piece of shit, and Demetri was an opportunist prick. Carmilla was likely hoping to wear Samara down, plant a seed of doubt during this dinner that Demetri could jump on while Samara would be using every ounce of her unbending willpower to hold the lust at bay.
She needed a friend in that room. I would be that friend. Even if she wanted nothing more than to bury a dagger in my chest.
“You will keep her safe.” The dust seemed to tremble at Draven’s feet as he spoke, his words somewhere between an order and a plea.
I held his bloodred gaze that promised death to anyone who harmed Samara and said the only thing I could. “With my life.”
Chapter Four
Vail
I stoodnear the doors of the grand dining hall, where Carmilla, Lucian, Demetri, and Samara were having dinner. This space had clearly been built to host at least sixty people back in the day when the Fae had lived here. Most of the murals painted on the walls of the Houses were of pretty landscapes, but occasionally, they’d depict the Fae themselves. Usually dancing in fancy clothing with masks on their faces and crystal glasses in their hands.
It was those paintings that had inspired Velika’s ridiculous parties. But even she hadn’t been able to justify having food at them because there simply wasn’t enough to spare.
Moroi numbers had grown considerably over the last two decades, thanks to the security of the Houses and the wards we’d learned to place around the outposts. But the crops had to be grown outside those wards, and it was a dangerous task, even during the day.
On top of that, all it took was one night for a herd of deer or a pack of boars to bulldoze through an outpost’s food supply. The wraiths had also wiped out several high-producing outposts in the last year. We could survive one bad harvest . . . but any more than that, and we would be in serious trouble.
Carmilla had never been one to throw fancy dinners, not even back at House Harker. Some of the other Houses would, the Heads or Heirs enjoying their little pretend world where they could spoil themselves in such a way, as if we still didn’t dwell in a land crawling with monsters or weren’t two bad growing seasons away from starvation.
But tonight, there was enough food for easily double the people here. It was Lucian’s doing. One of the many things I’d learned about him this past week was that he enjoyed the finer things in life and didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. What I didn’t know was why the fuck Carmilla was working with him.
Maybe she had needed him to take out Velika, but that didn’t explain why she wasstillallied with him, and why she hadn’t stopped him from wasting all this food. My lips twisted into a grimace, and my gaze slid down the table to Samara, who had an identical look of disgust on her face. She hid it quickly when Carmilla glanced at her though and instead pasted a beatific smile on her face.
I hated that smile. It was a lie. Her real one was usually close-lipped, the corners of her lips tilted up with a sly but content type of amusement. I hadn’t seen that one in a while.
Granted, Samara had been a wreck the past three days. I knew she’d been in considerable pain because she’d voluntarily spoken to me, asking me to bring her more tea. I’d brought everything she’d asked for and then some, as if that would help make everything right between us.
I didn’t even know what I wanted to do at this point. There was no undoing that I’d betrayed Samara to be loyal to Carmilla, I couldn’t fix that, but with every day that dragged on, it felt more and more obvious that I’d made the wrong choice. If I betrayed Carmilla to ally with Samara, would she even acceptmy help? Or would that only result in both of them wanting me dead?
Moonsdamn it. How had I fucked everything up so badly?
“You’re looking much better today, my love.” Demetri smiled at Samara, who was sitting to his left. “If you need help withanything, do let me know.”
“I have not nor have I ever been your love,” Samara replied smoothly as she gave Demetri a cutting look before picking up her glass of wine and taking a delicate sip.
This was one of the smaller tables in the room but was still meant to sit eight people. Carmilla sat at the head of the table with Lucian to her right. She’d had her niece sit at the opposite end of the table, which was considered a seat of respect; if an Heir from another House were visiting Sovereign House, it was where they would have been seated. Considering Carmilla had let her niece suffer in the dungeon for the last few days I was a little surprised. I’d have guessed that Lucian would have sat there, but he seemed perfectly content to be playing the part of Carmilla’s consort.
I didn’t understand any of this. When Carmilla had told me to bring Samara to dinner, I’d expected armed guards to be standing next to her. Instead, Carmilla had dismissed all of them from the room and had been having—what seemed on the surface to be—a pleasant conversation with her niece.
Their words were like hidden daggers volleyed back and forth. Seemingly polite, but both were bleeding from the double-edged meanings. I was so far out of my depth.
I knew how to track and hunt down any type of monster. There wasn’t a weapon I didn’t know my way around. But I knew fuck all about politics, and suddenly, I’d found myself swimming it.
Whatever game Carmilla was playing, I didn’t understand. Just like I was struggling to comprehend Samara’s motivations.
If the lust haze was riding her hard, she wasn’t letting an ounce of it show. She looked as cool and composed as ever, which I knew was annoying Demetri, based on how rigid his smile was.
The idiot had probably thought Samara would jump into his lap out of desperation to get herself off. My lips curled up into the barest hint of a smile. He’d been married to Samara for years but obviously didn’t know her at all. For all her polished exterior and determination to never fail as the House Harker Heir, Samara ran on fucking spite.
