Page 50 of A Throne of Blood & Vengeance

“You have to admit that The Blood Queen does have a nice ring to it though,” I mused.

“Not. Helping.” Samara huffed and rolled over until she stared up at the ceiling.

I pushed myself up so I was leaning on my arm and looking down at her. “Are you worried about this because you don’t want to be queen . . . or because you do and you’re concerned that you’ll become as corrupt as the previous two?”

Her eyes darted to mine, and I knew I’d guessed right. I’d never be as astute as Kieran at reading people, but I did know how Samara’s mind worked. She held herself to an almost impossible standard and was her own worst critic in many ways.

“First, I don’t think for a second that you becoming an evil queen is even a possibility.”

“You literally called me The Blood Queen a moment ago! That doesn’t sound like a nice title, Roth!”

I snorted. “We’re Moroi. There’s nothing nice about us, and blood is intrinsic to who we are.”

She pursed her lips, and I resisted the urge to lean down and kiss her because I didn’t want to get distracted—and I absolutely would if my lips touched any part of her.

“But if you need further assurances,” I told her softly, “you have us. Do you think Kieran would ever let you strip away thefree will of others after growing up in that horribly manipulative House?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Of course not.”

“Do you think Draven would let you lock up crying children in a dungeon after he holds himself responsible for the deaths of so many in the outposts?”

“None of that is his fault!” she snarled, her eyes flashing black. “That was fucking Erendriel’s doing.”

“It was,” I agreed. “But there’s the truth—and then there is the guilt he carries. He would never sit by while you harmed innocents.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“And Alaric cares deeply for the outposts because that is where his family is from,” I reminded her, even though I knew I didn’t have to.

“His parents are at an outpost now.” She bunched her brows together again. “We should warn them in case Carmilla?—”

“Already done.” I reached up and brushed my thumb across her brow, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Alaric sent them a message before we left House Harker. He kept things vague, but they headed to one of the more remote outposts. They’re as safe as they can be.”

“Oh.” She exhaled and closed her eyes as my thumb traced a path across her brow and then down her jawline. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” I tucked some of her dark locks behind her ear.

Those stunning eyes of hers slowly opened. “Will you keep me from becoming a tyrant?”

“Babe, I don’t even let you be a tyrant in the bedroom. What makes you think I’ll let you be one on the throne?”

A husky laugh tumbled from her lips, and I smiled. I loved hearing her laugh—especially when I was the one who caused it.

I didn’t mention Vail, and neither did she. That just seemed like a way to derail this conversation. Besides, Draven seemed to have some vested interest in helping Vail succeed. I had no idea why, but I was more than willing to let him take the lead on that.

“The crown wants me to claim it,” Samara said after her laughter died off.

“Do you want to?” I asked curiously. A sentient Fae artifact definitely fascinated me from an academic standpoint, even if the magic it was capable of horrified me.

She thought about it for a long moment, and I didn’t push her, just continued playing with strands of her hair. It was so silky. I didn’t think I’d ever grow tired of touching it.

“I do want to,” she finally answered. “But not for its power—that, I find abhorrent. It’s because I feel in my soul”—she placed a hand on her chest—“that it does belong with me. And it’s so lonely.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Of course you’d befriend an inanimate object.”

“Honestly, it has a good sense of humor.” She frowned. “We should come up with a name for it. Feels strange just referring to it as an ‘it,’ but I don’t think it has any concept of gender. Maybe I’ll just go withtheyfor now and ask the crown if they have a preference . . .”

“We’ll figure out something with the crown,” I assured her. “Maybe there’s a way to change its magic. Or we could just keep it—them—somewhere safe where you could regularly visit them.”

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