“Did it ever converse withyou?” 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’refucking 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 onRothie 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. Isuspected 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.”
