Page 36 of A Court of Bones & Sorrow

That was a problem for future Samara. For now, I set out at a slow but steady pace. Vail trailed silently behind me, and it set my teeth on edge not being able to see him but knowing he was there all the same. I made it two minutes before I snapped.

“Can you please just walk beside me?”

He sighed and moved to my side, and I started walking again, fighting the blackness that was starting to encroach on my vision. Just ten more minutes on this beach, another ten-minute hike up a fairly steep hill, then all I had to do was scale up the tower wall that led to my bedroom.

Piece of cake.

“Should have just slept in that room,” I muttered, and Vail laughed under his breath. It had a deep, raspy quality to it. He might be a Moroi, but Vail’s voice had always reminded me of a wolf shifter with its gravelly edge. “I’m glad we didn’t run into those things as kids,” I said lightly, checking his expression from the corner of my eye.

Vail liked to pretend our childhood friendship hadn’t existed, but for once, he didn’t bite my head off. Instead, a rueful smile played across his lips. “That definitely would have put a damper on our stargazing. Plus, your screaming was a lot higher-pitched back then. Would have blown out my eardrums.”

“Ass.” I shoved his shoulder, but the movement proved too much for my body when everything went dark for a second. The world tilted, and suddenly, my head was leaning against something warm and hard. I blinked several times, trying to bring the world back into focus, but ended up peering into Vail’s face.

“Rest, Samara.” His gaze flickered down to mine before quickly pulling away. “I’ve got you.”

“Please don’t feed me to the monsters,” I mumbled beforeburrowing further against his chest. “You’ve had three chances to kill me now and failed each time. Is this your way of saying you like me again?”

“Sam?”

“Yes?” I answered sleepily.

“Shut up.”

The world went black.

Chapter Twelve

Vail

Samara’s eyelids fluttered rapidly.She’d been dreaming for the last hour, and I had yet to figure out if it was a good or bad dream. Her midnight black hair was fanned out across my bed, and she’d been snuggling into my pillows and blankets since I’d laid her here hours ago.

I’d only hesitated for a moment last night before bringing her back to my room. She’d passed out hard, her body shutting down so it could finish healing. The wound on her leg hadn’t smelled right when I’d been examining it. I couldn’t say for sure, but I suspected there’d been some type of toxin in the barbs of that fucking gigantic starfish. Luckily the smaller ones had yet to develop those barbs; otherwise, all three of us would have been in serious trouble. As it was, Samara had taken the worst of it.

An echo of the fear I’d felt when she’d been dangling off that rock ledge raced through me, followed quickly by rage at remembering how she’d refused to let go of that fucking bag. Not for the first time, I wished Samara had never returned to House Harker. It’d been easy to hate her when she’d beengone, playing the dutiful wife at House Laurent, but that piece of shit Demetri just had to fuck things up.

My fingers clenched into fists, and I felt my nails harden enough to bite into my skin. I’d thrown the failed marriage in Samara’s face when she’d come back. It had been an asshole thing to do, even by my standards, but Samara always took my hatred in stride, which only pissed me off more.

No matter what I did, she never broke.

The blanket slipped down as Samara rolled onto her side, burrowing further into the pillow and letting out a breathy sigh. Satisfaction rolled over me at seeing her in one of my shirts but was quickly replaced by frustration… and confusion. Even if I was starting to acknowledge that I didn’t truly hate her, I definitely did not like her. Not likethat. It was just an instinctual response I’d have to any beautiful woman in my bed wearing my clothing.

Covered in my scent.

Fuck. My nostrils flared, and I stalked over to the window. Unlike Samara, I didn’t have a large suite. My living quarters only consisted of a bedroom and a small washroom. Carmilla had repeatedly offered me a place in the main tower that had larger and fancier accommodations, but I preferred to be in the barracks with the rest of the rangers.

Samara’s spicy and intoxicating scent intertwined with my own drifted over, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t fucking escape her.

Moroi were possessive. We might have lax views when it came to sex, but once we claimed a long-term partner, we were ruthless about it. There were exceptions, but polyamorous relationships were far more common amongst the Velesians. It was why I found Samara’s relationship with Kieran and Roth so confusing. And I’d always known Alaric had a thing for her too despite his attempts to hide it.

More often than not, I found Alaric Lockwood irritating todeal with, but I still had a begrudging respect for him. He was incredibly smart and used his brains to help House Harker instead of the social ladder climbing many of the higher-ranking officials attempted. And now he and I had something in common: we were both struggling to deal with our shifting emotions when it came to Samara.

The anger I felt towards her was still there. Always burning under my skin. The night all our parents had been attacked—the night they’d died—I’d gotten Samara to safety, and when I’d tried to go back and help my parents, Samara had knocked me out. She claimed she’d done it to save my life, but I knew that was bullshit. She just hadn’t wanted to be left alone. It was her life she’d been worried about. No one else’s.

In the months and years after that night, I’d never seen Samara cry once. She acted like the death of her parents didn’t matter and had obsessed over House politics instead. It didn’t take her long to secure an advantageous marriage. She’d gone to Drudonia to study and then flittered off to House Laurent to be yet another pampered Heir.

Carmilla had tried to make excuses for Samara’s behavior to me, but more than once, she’d confessed she wasn’t comfortable grieving her sister around Samara because of how little her niece seemed to care. While Samara had been away, it’d been easy to believe the worst about her.

It was why I’d left her to die when that kùsu had attacked us weeks ago. When the long, insectoid beast had slid between us, its pinchers snapping in excitement at finding its prey, I’d felt a savage relief. Like Samara had been getting what she was owed for costing me everything.

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