Page 47 of A Throne of Blood & Vengeance

“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 wallingoff 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 felteverything.

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.

NotofCali—forher.

“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 herdevilish eyes sparking with amusement. I was so going to punish her later.

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