Page 98 of A Throne of Blood & Vengeance

“Fuck you too!” Vail growled.

I was halfway down the hall when I heard Draven say, “Maybe I need to explain how apologies are supposed to work . . .”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Samara

Hours later,I had to admit that I did feel a lot better. The rage towards Vail and the stupid fucking stunt he’d pulled was still simmering, but I was capable of putting that aside to help search this place for something useful. Roth had pointed out the chest where they’d found that orb of light. There’d only been one, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more somewhere else. Or maybe one of the texts would mention how it had been made.

If we could figure out how to create more, we’d have an actual weapon we could wield against the wraiths. It was a hell of a lot more effective than the enchantments on the rangers’ weapons.

Draven’s blood whip worked well against the wraiths, and while we’d been exploring this secret level of the temple, I’d asked him more about it. The good news was that I was fairly confident I could recreate the spell on my daggers, making them even more useful. The bad news was that while the spell itself was simple, it required a lot of blood—Fae blood.

Or at least half-Fae blood. Which meant we were limited based on how much blood Draven or I could spill on any given day. Not ideal.

My eyes slid over the murals painted on the walls. Most of the other places we’d found were utilitarian. The living spacesunderneath House Harker were clearly meant to house a large number of people—they had the basics and nothing more. The tunnel system we’d stayed at had been a bit more extravagant, with actual bedrooms instead of just a large space with rows of identical beds.

This space felt like someone had lived here though. Something about the rooms just felt more homey than the other places. The clothes hanging in the closets had that distinct look of having been worn before. I tugged at the thin fabric of the deep purple gown I’d found after washing my clothes and hanging them to dry. Whoever had been here before had had good taste, but they’d clearly been taller and thinner than me. Luckily, the material was stretchy, so it still fit.

The dress even hadpockets.

And these murals . . . I traced the vibrant petals of the wildflowers painted on the bottom half of the wall.

It was a meadow . . . but not like one I’d ever seen around here. The flowers were too dainty and delicate, and it had a peaceful vibe to it that we simply didn’t get here. In Lunaria, even the fucking flowers wanted to eat you.

“Where did you all go?” I murmured aloud, because woven into the beautiful painting was poetry—Unseelie poetry.

The Seelie had turned into the wraiths, but there was no hint of where the Unseelie had gone. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the Unseelie had been known for their shadow magic and the Seelie were now trapped in shadows. Somebody had protected this place to keep the wraiths out . . . or maybe some Unseelie had designed it to keep out their own kind?

The hallway ended in a stairwell, and I started to climb up. Between this place, the Harker journals, and the room beneath Lake Malov, we had to start finding some answers. Although, given that the Alpha Pack was probably tearing the Velesian realm apart looking for Rynn and that we were almost certainlynot welcome there, I wasn’t sure how we’d get back into that room.

Only my footsteps sounded as I made my way up—the wraiths had gone quiet. I worried my bottom lip and hesitated when I reached the level where everyone was likely still convened. Hopefully some of them were resting.

My gaze flicked up more stairs to a small landing that led to an archway. On the other side were a few more stairs and then the rest of the temple, but that archway was where the ward started. If I went up there, I could at least peek out and see if I could spot any of the wraiths—or maybe even Serril—waiting.

Decision made, I tiptoed up the rest of the stairs and peered out into the darkness. The last time I’d been in this temple had been to investigate wraith activity. That night had ended with us thinking Draven was the enemy and wraiths attacking us. Vail had almost lost himself to bloodlust and attacked me—then saved me. During the process, he’d ripped open a hole in the ceiling.

The moon had risen while I’d been asleep. I looked longingly at the moonbeams rippling across the temple floor, beckoning me to come and lie on the cool surface and gaze up into the night sky.

“Does it call to you?” a deep voice asked from the shadows.

I’d noticed that I wasn’t alone only a split second before he’d spoken, but even then, I’d barely managed to stop myself from jumping. Or taking a step back from the archway as the figure stepped into the moonlight and strolled down the stairs to stand on the opposite side.

Not Serril.

Dark golden-blond hair framed a handsome, masculine face. I saw echoes of Draven in it. The strong jawline, chiseled cheekbones, and those eyes—lapis lazuli blue—were the exactsame shade as Draven’s. Only, these had no red fractures interrupting the blue.

“Hello, Erendriel.” I leaned against my side of the archway like I wasn’t the least bit surprised that the Seelie King was standing a foot away from me. Here was hoping that the Fae didn’t have sensitive hearing; otherwise, he’d hear my heart pounding so hard, it was a miracle my ribs weren’t rattling.

The last time I’d seen him, there had been shadows trailing in his wake, but there were none now. He looked every bit as flesh and blood as I.

Suddenly, my heart, which had been beating rapidly a second ago, felt like it froze.

Did that mean he could walk through the ward? Had he figured out how to turn himself completely back to Fae? I smothered the alarm that threatened to choke me. No. He’d clearly been waiting for me. If he could have gotten past the ward, he would have by now.

Either the ward was also designed to keep out Seelie Fae, or Erendriel had enough wraith left in him that he was still forbidden from passing.

Not all traps were the physical kind. He was here because he wanted something from me, and something told me a centuries-old Fae was just as capable of ensnaring me with words as he was with actions.

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