Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 256: A Ghost’s Many Opinions

Chapter 256: A Ghost’s Many Opinions

"You can’t seriously believe that fishy vampire’s words, can you?!" the Fallen One fumed, his transparent body flickering dramatically, like a candle flame caught in a tantrum.

Only he could see himself—which, Riona suspected, explained why he acted so insufferably confident. He stomped along in sync with her footsteps, a pointless gesture considering he had no actual feet.

"How, exactly, did he get the information on Ol’gaz? Huh? Did he just happen to trip over some ancient scrolls and go, ’Oh wow, here’s a prophecy I can exploit’? Suspicious!"

Crossing his arms with an exaggerated flair, he puffed out his ghostly chest. "And need I remind you, villains always say they know stuff. I wouldn’t be shocked if he whips off his cape at the end and reveals he’s been the ultimate big bad all along."

Riona bit down on her lip, the words "Oh, shut up" hovering dangerously close to escaping. Ignoring him had become a finely tuned art form over the past five years.

Some people mastered swordplay; others learned ancient languages. Riona? She perfected the rare skill of pretending the world’s most irritating ancestor didn’t exist.

But today, she cracked. Not because she wanted to argue with him—arguing with the Fallen One was like yelling at a particularly smug cloud—but because she needed to vent to someone.

Even if that someone happened to be an ancestral deadbeat with opinions louder than his contributions.

"Do you think I trust him?!" she snapped. "I know he’s hiding something! He’s shady, arrogant, and probably plotting twenty different betrayals while smirking at his own reflection."

She paused, gripping the bundle of clothes she’d been shoving into her bag with unnecessary force, and exhaled. "But what am I supposed to do? He’s the only one claiming to know how to save Florian. Unless you’ve got a better plan—which, surprise, you don’t—I’m stuck with him."

The Fallen One scoffed, floating closer like an annoying sibling trying to steal her fries. "Well, I’m just saying—"

"Don’t." She turned on him, jabbing a finger through his chest. "You’re always just saying. It’s your whole thing. But when it comes to actually doing something? Oh no, that’s my job, isn’t it? You just hover around, dropping cryptic one-liners and whining about how hard it is to be a dead guy."

To be fair, the vampire emperor did give her the creeps. Every time he got too close, her skin crawled like she’d been dunked in a bucket of garlic. But extracting his knowledge without getting closer was an impossibility.

Not even the Fallen One had a clue what to do. For all his nagging, he was as useful as a ghost trying to be a king.

Riona rolled her eyes as a surge of annoyance rose within her. Convenient, she thought bitterly. So convenient for him to dump all the responsibilities on me while he lounges around, making sure I feel every ounce of his judgment.

Just when she thought she’d run out of options, something presented itself. It wasn’t ideal—far from it. In fact, it was dreadful news. But still, it was a glimmer of direction, and for that, she welcomed it.

The door to her room flew open after the faintest of knocks, and Thorin strode in without waiting for an invitation, as was his usual style.

"We can’t go to the Kingdom of Eira," he announced dramatically, his voice heavy with the kind of gravitas that suggested he was delivering the most important news in history. "There’s somewhere we need to visit first."

Riona paused mid-motion, her hands hovering over the bag she’d been stuffing with clothes. Her stomach tensed. "And where exactly are we going instead?" she asked, shoving the bag aside and sitting on the edge of the bed.

She’d long since learned that when Thorin started with this kind of dramatic tone, it was best to settle in. Whatever he was about to say would inevitably be dragged out, punctuated by his flair for theatrics.

She folded her arms and gave him a look that said, Go on, enlighten me with your brilliance. Whatever ’somewhere’ he had in mind, she was sure it would somehow be worse than their original plan.

"My uncle Warren survived the... uh, incident," Thorin began, his voice faltering as his eyes flicked nervously to the right and left, searching for the right words to describe that day.

What exactly should he call it? The day her kidnappers—his family—got what they deserved? Or should he label it the day she absolutely annihilated the Zachs like a one-woman natural disaster?

Neither option sounded particularly... diplomatic. After an awkward pause, he settled on ’the incident,’ a term that felt bland and neutral enough to avoid triggering an argument.

Riona’s face remained unreadable, but his words brought memories rushing back. She hadn’t set out to wipe out the entire Zach family that day. At least, that hadn’t been her plan. She’d acted in self-defense.

...Okay, fine, that wasn’t the whole truth. She had been mad—no, furious—at that smug Nina woman. And yes, she might have wanted to see Nina knocked off her high horse and groveling in the dirt.

But did she mean to level an entire castle in the process? That had been... collateral damage. Sort of.

Thorin cleared his throat. "Apparently, the explosion caused significant damage to the castle," he said, choosing his words with the care of someone handling live dynamite. "But, you know, they survived. My family, that is."

Riona raised an eyebrow, unsure if she should feel guilty or if Thorin was angling to make her feel guilty. He was trying too hard to sound calm.

He coughed awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. "The knights, though... not so much. They bore the brunt of it."

The confusing part was that Thorin had casually mentioned his uncle Warren at the start, making it sound like he was the only survivor of the entire incident.

Apparently, Thorin realized how terribly he’d phrased that. He scrambled to clarify. "Right, so the castle’s, uh, totally gone. Burned to the ground. Poof. Someone else came along after you to, you know, make sure the Zach family was really gone."

His hands moved around animatedly as he did his best explanation in the simplest way.

"My uncle Warren—who didn’t die, by the way—was off looking for physicians to help the injured when the whole thing went down. That’s how he survived. But," he leaned in like he was about to drop the greatest revelation of the century, "he saw the person who did it. The one who actually finished off my entire lineage."

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