If she was being perfectly honest with herself, Samantha's only reason for seeking out the dark haired man was out of desperation. The former queen had thought herself so capable of taking care of herself before she had gotten herself into this strange situation. She had near mastered those emotion-based affinities that she had been so blessed with. She could twist the emotions of others - and to some extent, even her own - into weapons and manipulations that could so easily be used to protect herself. How far the queen had come, moving from a timid little girl to a fully capable young woman. But she couldn't protect herself from this. She couldn't protect the tiny life that existed within her, not without the knowledge of what the pregnancy might be like. She had truly thought it impossible. She had died, after all, and things that had died did not typically have children. And yet she could not deny the fluttering that existed within her stomach, nor that constant spark of emotion that she'd come to feel particularly fond of. When had she started to feel any sort of attachment to the thing inside her?

Samantha would have hoped, honestly, to have had more information on the mysterious new king of Sacrosanct before she approached him. She didn't like the rumors that she'd heard thus far. Rumors of his cruelty ran amok, especially around the burlesque crowd. While some of them may have been loyal to her, Samantha remembered the way they'd treated her when she first began to work for Nadya within those walls. How those naturally born fae (how she wished she had asked more about how they were born fae!) had looked down upon the girl who had been created. She had been a target to those girls, and Samantha did not trust them entirely. But she'd hardly had time to do her own research on Andras, having to rely entirely on the words of those girls. But she could protect herself, even if he turned out to be the cruel man of their descriptions. Of that she was sure.

It was that in mind that she called out to the man as he left his townhome. She could see that aura of his, his emotions shifting from that soft, neutral tone to that surprise. She watched as his appearance shifted. Gone was that casual manner that one might exist in when one thought no one was watching. It was replaced by that hunter's gaze. Samantha didn't flinch as he moved forwards her, her own features neutral as he observed her. His gaze was predatory, but Samantha hardly viewed herself as prey. Those emotions she could control so well were held closely, ready for the empath to so easily shift them if so needed. It was that mention of Somnia that seemed to truly affect the man.

She knew little about what Somnia might have been, though she had hoped that might have been enough to shift the conversation in her favor. It seemed quite the opposite, however. He looked at her much the way a cat might have toyed with a mouse, and Samantha had to resist the urge to squirm under that ancient gaze. While she may have not held the title now, she had been a queen, and that position was one that she had not received lightly. She didn't immediately answer his initial inquiry, instead the young woman remained far more interested in the second thing he said to her: her own name.

She was hardly surprised that he knew of her. Any good monarch would know about those who might have come before them. "I am," Samantha replied coolly, her azure eyes not hesitating to meet his own dark ones. She held herself with all the grace of a queen, even if she was no longer. She would not be scared of this man, nor would she beg and plead for his assistance. "There are some in Sacrosanct still loyal to me, though I do not claim to be a queen any longer." Her tone was steady, holding no threat despite its seriousness. "But I could be, if I wanted." And she had certainly thought about it. She could tug on that loyalty and create her own monarchy if it meant that she could protect the child inside of her, and yet she found that that was not her intention, at least not yet. "Andras, may we chat?"