Though Samantha hardly found herself friendly with the local fae that worked within the confines of the burlesque, she could not doubt their usefulness. Those women so easily a guide into the gossip of the city, even if Samantha had been gone for months at a time. Given that so many of those girls saw customers from all races this city had to hold, they held all the latest news of the city. Ah, how men were keen to spill their secrets with a beautiful fae girl on their lap! And like the catty, malicious fae they were, it was so easy to use them to obtain that privileged information. They were like young girls, bursting to spill the knowledge they held, especially to their former queen. But like those girls that Samantha had known in the high schools of her human life: their information was not always reliable or full of anything truly useful to the young woman. As such, they had told her that Andras existed, that he was the newest monarch, that he had something to do with a place called Somnia... but when the former queen so pressed for details, she was met with shrugs and the begging that their queen would not seek out such a cruel man. But she wasn't a queen, as she reminded the young women. Her royal days were behind her, that persona having cracked the instant Aiden's death had briefly shattered the woman's sanity.

As those hardened eyes turned on her, it was not hard for the young fae to understand why those rumors of his cruel nature had flooded the city. His dark gaze held that power: it was an ancient one, full of the confidence that a centuries-old fae had come to have. But Samantha was not a timid little mouse, at least she wasn't any longer. Even with the child she so carried and that innate desire to protect it, she would not reduce herself down to a begging, squirming fool. He seemed hardly pleased nor upset at the mention that some of the local fae were loyal to her, instead he seemed... amused? That flash of irritation appeared on Samantha's face before she could stop it. She was not a child, not a toy for him to be amused by. But Samantha said nothing out loud to that nature, doing so would prove herself the child he thought she was. And she supposed to an ancient fae, the young woman was a child by comparison. After all, her turning had been less than ten years ago.

"It's Sam, just Sam. I hold no titles anymore," The young woman corrected, crossing her arms across her chest. "To my understanding, you are the king of this city now, your majesty." Addressing him as such may have stung her pride ever so slightly, and yet she found no use in offending the man. Samantha did not want to be queen again. The pressure of the monarchy had been far too great after watching her boyfriend die from her own mistakes - even if he, miraculously, had risen again. She had felt guilty about abandoning her post, particularly in that she had deserted Dorian and Troy, and yet she had needed to leave the city so desperately. But even with no desire to be the queen she once was, she couldn't deny the ache in her chest at the notion of someone else holding that position, that thing that had once been hers.

Still, the young woman tried to be kind, even if she refused to yield and submit to him entirely. That small question of if they could talk was one she hardly expected to be refused. After all, wasn't it the job of the monarch to hear out the needs of any local fae? And yet he dismissed her as though she was less interesting than the speck of dust upon his pristine suit jacket. Samantha's own gaze hardened as he approached her, her spine stiffening as she drew her powers closer to her. She would not attack the man, of course, but would hardly allow herself to be harmed either. "I wasn't aware my words were a threat to you," The young woman said genuinely, her mind racing to consider the things she had said to him. Yes, she had muttered that she could very well be queen again if she wanted, and yet... wasn't it obvious that she didn't want that? If she had wanted that, she wouldn't be here upon his doorstep. Fae monarchies were not decided in duels to the death, after all. The Fair Folk were far too clever to result to such brutalities.

If Andras wanted the young fae to cower under his looming presence, he certainly did not get what he wanted. Instead, Samantha's crystalline eyes remained steadfast on his, though with a softness that certainly wasn't there before. "Forgive me, your majesty, I meant no threat to you," The young woman said as he leaned away from her, his body language clearly dismissive of the young woman. "That is, unless you find a woman pregnant with a fae child to be a threat." Samantha's hand fluttered then to her stomach, that vulnerability unwillingly present in her posture. She hated to relent, to provide even the slightest indication of submission to his power. And yet the young woman could not deny that she needed him. She needed his knowledge, his wisdom, his bloody protection. "I have no desire to harm you or your people. I am here to ask what you know about my condition and..." She trailed off, still unwilling to admit that she needed his help