A Court of Bones & Sorrow (Lunaria Realms #2)

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Roth

I blew out a frustrated breath and slammed the book closed. Another dead end. So far, I had a long list of problems and very few solutions, and that list was only growing.

Solving problems was my thing. I enjoyed it and was good at it, but usually the problems I was trying to solve were things I could look at from an abstract viewpoint. If I couldn’t solve them, I would be annoyed, but I’d just move on to something else and forget about them in a few days.

It was harder to do that though when my lover, who was a fucking Heir, was counting on me. I didn’t want to let her down.

I glanced around the suite and the absolute chaos it contained. For someone who always appeared so well put together, Samara’s rooms were a bit of a shock. I’d only been here a handful of times because she almost always came to my room. I had a tendency to lose track of time, and Samara often felt compelled to hunt me down and make sure I was eating and sleeping enough.

At first, it had annoyed me, but after ensuring I ate or drank something, Samara would flop onto my bed and pick up a book. No other demands. No questions. She’d simply wanted to make sure I was okay and, once she’d done that, purely enjoy my company.

Nobody in my life had ever given a shit about me this way, and I didn’t exactly know what to do about that, or the fact that I’d been at House Harker for such a short time and already couldn’t imagine my life anywhere else with anyone else.

I scowled at the book in my hand for daring to not have the answers before tossing it onto the table in front of me. When it slid across the surface and stopped just before some books that Samara had placed haphazardly into a tall, teetering stack, I winced. I didn’t quite understand how it hadn’t fallen over yet, but I was worried that if I so much as breathed in its direction, it would collapse. So I’d left it alone and hoped it continued to defy its destiny.

I’d barely gotten into a book again when the door opened and Samara strolled in looking a little . . . disheveled.

The scent of blood, sweat, and lingering lust filled the air.

“You and Alaric are still working things out, I see.” I raised an eyebrow at her, and Samara just smirked before heading towards the washroom, stripping as she went.

“I think we’ve worked past all the hard bits.”

“I bet,” I said dryly, lips curling up slightly. It was good to see Samara happy, given everything that was going on.

She paused halfway across the room and whirled around in nothing but her panties, giving me a concerned look. “Are you . . . okay about me being with Alaric? I know you’re fine with Kieran, but I just realized I never specifically talked to you about Alaric.” The smile that had been plastered across her face fell, and her brows bunched in concern. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Roth. Things kind of happened fast between me and Alaric. I wasn’t expecting it to be honest, but that’s no excuse. I should have talked to you about this sooner and?— ”

“Samara,” I cut her off, a bemused look on my face. It wasn’t often that I saw the supremely confident Heir of House Harker looking unsure about anything. “As long as he treats you well and makes you happy, I have no problem with any of it.”

“Okay.” She chewed her bottom lip. “You’re absolutely sure?”

I rolled my eyes before standing from the settee and walking over to her to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Babe.” I kissed her again. “It’s fine. I appreciate you taking my feelings into account.” Another kiss. “But it is impossible for me to take you and this conversation seriously when you’re standing there basically naked and chewing on your lip like that.”

“Oh!” Samara looked down at herself like she’d just remembered she was in nothing but panties. Then she gave me a sheepish grin as color darkened her cheeks. “I . . . ummm . . . usually start stripping as soon as I’m back in my rooms. Given the option, I prefer to just lounge around naked or maybe in an oversized shirt if it’s cold.”

“I’m going to be in your rooms a lot more now.” The left corner of my mouth tilted up. I’d never just . . . hung out with Samara in her rooms before. Usually we were tearing each other’s clothes off or I was tying her down with my ribbons. This was new territory for me, and I fought to keep from running my hand through my hair as I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do.

“Okay,” she said again, this time, a little mischievous spark lighting up her dark purple eyes. “You called me babe .”

Some of the tension bled out of me. She was so adorable sometimes.

“Sure did. Now go rinse off.” Then I leaned forward to whisper into her ear, “ Babe .”

She grinned and sauntered off to the washroom, swinging her hips with a ridiculous exaggeration. I watched every second of it before retreating to the settee and diving into the books once more. A stupid smile stretched across my face, but I didn’t care because there wasn’t anyone here to see it.

Ten minutes later, a thoroughly clean Samara sat down next to me, towel drying her wet hair as she scanned the books I’d brought with me. Despite the messy state of her room, I had no doubt Samara knew exactly where everything was and easily identified my items.

Her eyes lingered on the neat stack of clothing sitting on one of the chairs. I’d brought not only clothes for tonight, but extra clothes to keep here for whenever I stayed over. She didn’t comment on the clothing, but I didn’t miss the pleased expression that flashed across her face.

Samara liked me being in her rooms. This wasn’t a passing fancy for her, and it sure as shit wasn’t for me. She had brought up Alaric and apologized for that misstep, even though I truly didn’t care since it had been clear to anyone with eyes that those two were headed in that direction, so it was time for me to come clean too.

“I got kicked out of Drudonia,” I blurted out. Smooth, Roth. Couldn’t have come up with a better way to phrase that?

Once again, the happy expression vanished from her face, and I squeezed my eyes shut with a wince. Why was I so terrible at talking like a normal person?

Oh, right, because I’d barely spoken to anyone for the first ten years of my life.

“What I meant to say—” The words died on my lips when I opened my eyes and met Samara’s solid black ones.

A tightly contained fury rolled off her in waves, and she flexed her now claw-tipped fingers. “Was this your House’s doing? Their way of forcing you to go back to them?”

“What?” I asked in shock. “No, they don’t care?—”

“Because I will tear House Devereux apart brick by brick,” Samara snarled. “You are mine . ”

“I am.” My hands gently wrapped around hers, and I raised her right hand to sit over my heart, not flinching as her claws pierced my thin shirt to sink lightly into the flesh below. “House Devereux doesn’t want me either.” I tried and failed to keep my tone light. “So it’s good that you’re a fan of my tongue and reading comprehension because otherwise, things would not be looking too good for me right now.”

Samara took in a deep breath, and I felt her claws slide free before she pulled her hand away and winced at her bloody fingertips. “Sorry.” She sighed. “I haven’t bothered to tuck the bloodlust completely away since getting back. With Draven here, I’d rather keep it close.” Purple bled back into her eyes as the black threads receded until they were just thin, dark jagged lines, a reminder of the monster always lurking under the surface.

“The fangs haven’t escaped my notice.” I gave her a reassuring grin that I wasn’t frightened of her. Every Moroi treated their bloodlust differently. Some viewed it a weapon to wield. Others would only let it out when they were feeding or fucking. Usually both.

But Samara let her bloodlust out frequently, and there was barely a difference in her personality. This was the first time I’d seen a flash of anything else, and even then, I hadn’t been the least bit scared. If anything, I’d wanted to shove her down on the settee and let those claws rip off my pants while I sat on her face.

I squeezed my thighs together as a pleasant heat started to build. Definitely an idea for later.

When she saw I wasn’t the least bit disturbed by her outburst, Samara licked my blood from her fingers and then moved to rest her head on my lap. I stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before settling back against the cushions and running my fingers through her still-damp hair.

“Why did Drudonia kick you out? You’re brilliant,” Samara said. “They were lucky to have someone like you there.”

“This may shock you, but I’m not exactly good with other people.” I shrugged. Honestly, I didn’t know how Samara and Kieran did it. They were both so good at navigating social niceties. Most people were dumb and not worth my time.

She pursed her lips into a hard, flat line. “You’re just direct is all.”

I snorted. “Well, my directness managed to piss off every scholar at Drudonia over the last few years. They couldn’t actually kick me out because, despite my estrangement from my House, I am still a Devereux, but when I told them I was coming here, they made it very clear that they would prefer I remain here.”

Samara didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I concentrated on getting some tangles out of her hair.

“Roth,” she said slowly, “have you been obsessing over finding answers because you’re worried that if you don’t, I’ll kick you out?”

My fingers froze on a tangle, and I slid my gaze to Samara’s. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow was raised as she gave me an exasperated look.

“To borrow some of your directness, don’t be an idiot. I adore you, Roth. If all you ever do is sit in my room with me and play with my hair while I read, I’m fine with that. You do not have to earn a place here. You already have it.” She snuggled further into my lap, and suddenly, I felt heat building behind my eyes.

No. Absolutely not. I would not cry.

As if sensing my internal struggle, Samara closed her eyes and gave me a few minutes to get a hold of myself. I finished getting the tangle out and moved on to another, the heat behind my eyes gradually lessening.

“I won’t ever push you about your family,” Samara said, still keeping her eyes closed, “but do you think we need to worry about them allying with Velika? Taivan is one of the only Heirs who didn’t come here earlier this week, not that House Devereux is particularly social.”

Understatement of the year. While most of the Houses were constantly jockeying for better positions, especially in proving their worth to the Sovereign House, Devereux was happy to remain in the shadows. We were on the southern coast, the border of the badlands to our west and the ocean lapping at our doors to the south. Most of the other Houses were situated on or near the main roads for travel. There was no reason to travel to our territory unless you wanted to visit us.

And House Devereux was not welcoming to outsiders.

“That House is loyal to itself and only itself,” I said evenly. “Thessalia and the rest of the Devereux, my parents included, are reclusive, paranoid, and obsessed with enforcing their borders.”

“You talk about them as if you aren’t a part of their House,” she noted.

“I was the youngest of three, and my parents really didn’t know what to do with someone who would rather pick up a book than a sword.”

So they did nothing . I couldn’t stop the bitter thought from surfacing. I wasn’t entirely sure they had even noticed when I’d left for Drudonia and never returned.

“Rynn thought you might have stayed at Drudonia after you finished your studies because your Hou—” Samara quickly corrected herself, “because House Devereux was pushing you to do something you didn’t want, like a marriage or stepping into a higher-ranking position.”

“What?” I frowned. “No, they barely acknowledged me when I briefly returned to collect the rest of my things. Taivan forced me to pack some daggers and other things to bring back to Drudonia, but we barely exchanged a few words. He’s the oldest of us, and I think he just feels obligated to act like a protective brother.”

“Brother . . .” Samara’s eyes flew open, and she gawked at me. “Taivan is your brother!”

“Yes.” I stared down at her in confusion. “I thought you knew that.”

“So Severen and Celestina are your parents?”

“And Taivan and Desmond, my older brothers.” I cocked my head at her wide-eyed expression. “Did you really not know who I was?”

“I mean, I knew you were a Devereux, but you never spoke about your family, and they never mentioned you.” She winced. “Everyone has always assumed you were a distant cousin or something, not that your father was the brother of the current ruler of House Devereux.”

“Like I said”—I shrugged nonchalantly—“they never really paid attention to me, so I’m not surprised I was never mentioned.”

“I’m sorry, Roth.” Her expression softened. “That couldn’t have been easy growing up.”

“It was lonely and frustrating,” I admitted. “But it could have been worse. They were never intentionally cruel, and no one has demanded that I return. Though if you’re hoping I can help improve relations between House Harker and House Devereux, I don’t think I’ll be of much help.”

“That’s fine,” Samara said. “I’m leaving House Devereux as a bit of a wild card in all this but leaning towards them not being allied with Velika. Though they likely won’t help us against her either.”

“I think that is a correct assessment to take for now. If . . .” I swallowed. “If you’d like me to reach out to my parents to arrange a meeting, I can do so.”

“Thank you.” Samara reached for one of my hands and pulled it away from her hair so she could kiss my palm. “I don’t think that’s necessary right now, but we’ll see what the future brings. But I will never ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

She released my hand and eyed the pen that was resting next to some notes I’d been taking. “Can you show me how you enchanted your pen? I’d like to do the same. It’ll help with translating the Harker journals.”

I leaned over her and picked up the pen, turning it so Samara could see the tiny glyph carved into the wood and the small sapphire gem embedded into the pen just above the glyph. “It’s a combination of ‘recite’ and ‘write.’ You can use this one. Just feed it some of your blood, and when you push your intention into it, keep in mind the language you’re dictating. The casting itself is simple—the harder part is keeping track of your thoughts and only pushing out the ones you want written down.”

“Got it.” She took the pen from me, lifting her head out of my lap, and sat on the edge of the settee as she reached into her bag and pulled out a journal. I closed my eyes as she snagged a book off the top of the leaning stack I’d been eying earlier, but when no crash sounded, I cracked one eye open to make sure it still stood.

Samara chuckled as she flipped open the book she had grabbed to reveal a blank page. “You know, Alaric has that same exact expression on his face more often than not when he’s in here.”

“I can only imagine,” I said dryly. Alaric loved order while Samara apparently loved chaos. Their relationship was going to be interesting, especially with Kieran involved, because he enjoyed causing trouble.

Where I fit in, I wasn’t exactly sure yet, but I was finding myself more and more curious to figure that out .

“Which journal are you starting with?” I asked, opening both eyes and squinting at the book.

“Rosalyn Harker’s,” Samara said. “I’ve already scanned through most of my mother’s journals.” Her voice tightened for a moment before she steadied herself. “Any important information we need to know, I’ve compiled into notes, but I’m not ready to dictate it word by word just yet. I need some . . . space. So I thought I would start at the beginning.”

I didn’t know how to comfort her. Samara had rarely spoken about her parents when we’d been at Drudonia. I didn’t talk about my parents because we weren’t close and our relationship was one of distance and frustration, but Samara didn’t speak of her parents even though she had loved them with her entire heart, and I had no doubt they had felt the same. I had no idea what that type of love was like.

Or how to comfort someone who had lost it.

What would Kieran do?

I raised my hand and patted her on the back. Awkwardly. How did he do this in a non-awkward manner? Was that even possible?

“What are you doing?” Samara looked over her shoulder at me, her fingers resting on the page she’d opened.

“You were sad,” I said helplessly. “I was making you feel better.”

I patted her on the back again.

She smiled, and I let out a breath. Look at me. I did it.

“Thank you.” Samara leaned back to kiss me on the cheek before returning to the journal.

“What does that say?” I peered over her shoulder. Not only was it written in a language I wasn’t familiar with, but the words were mangled, sometimes crushed together. Other times, they were spread far apart, but I was fairly certain it was the same two words written over and over again.

Samara raised a finger to her mouth and dragged it over a fang, then let the drop of blood that welled fall onto the glyph etched into my pen. It immediately absorbed the blood, and she released the pen so it hovered over the blank page of the other book as she wrestled with her thoughts.

“This is the first page. There are no dates on any of the pages, so I have no idea how long Rosalyn was lost in her early days as a Moroi before she regained enough of her humanity to write, but the first half of this journal is just these two words written over and over again.”

After a few seconds, the pen slowly started to move, and two words in the common tongue appeared on the page.

I hunger .