Page 39

Chapter 38

B y the time Ariadne crested the hill overlooking Laeton the following night, her exhaustion had piqued at an all-time high. Pretending to be thrilled with Loren’s presence and stamping down the constant tsunami of emotions at having left Azriel kept her in the perfect place for the man at her back to find her most appealing. She had just enough spunk left to give him a hard time if he spoke poorly to his soldiers, but never a full fight.

A madness glinted in the King’s eyes when she backed down, and he always followed up his chiding with soft touches and praises that made her skin crawl. The combination sent her right back into the cell with Ehrun, hanging from chains as he put her through one of his lessons .

Only the true Ehrun did not understand what he did. Loren reveled in it.

“Home,” Loren said in her ear. “Where you will be safe by my side forever.”

Ariadne bit her tongue, heart racing at what she had gotten herself into. Over the past couple of days, they had slept in separate chambers. She could continue to do that for a few more nights as she found the book and charted an escape. How she would make that work, she had yet to tease out. Not one of the servants at the Harlow Estate would dare cover for her again.

“I will be most pleased,” she said without looking back at him, “to sleep in my own bed again. I have missed my family home.”

Loren chuckled and nudged the stallion forward again. “Oh, my pet. You shall not be returning there just yet. Not unchaperoned as you are. We must keep up appearances.”

Appearances . As though they had both not ruined that when she kissed him openly—a memory that still made her gut churn in protest. She could barely stomach looking at him across a dining table, let alone withstand his body pressed against hers as they traveled after he refused to let her ride alone the entire journey.

Worse, though, was the way her heart sank. Horror opened that dark chasm in her chest as his words clicked into place in her mind. Now she looked up at the horrible man with what she hoped looked like confusion—not the fear she felt. She twisted her fingers into the skirt of the blue dress he had forced upon her, taken from a Rusan servant in a village on their route. Trousers were, after all, not very womanly in his eyes.

“By the gods,” she breathed, “what do you mean?”

“Ah, I have not told you yet.” Loren nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled long and deep.

The soap she had used during their stops had not been her typical floral choice. All that had been available was a mixture of citrus and wood. That, at least, made Ariadne feel better. Whatever scent he inhaled and attributed to her in that moment was not the same that had buried its way into Azriel’s memories. Memories, she prayed, he retained despite their distance.

“Told me what?” Ariadne resisted the urge to lean away from him and forced the tension from her shoulders at his close proximity.

Loren kissed the place just below her ear, sending a shiver of disgust through her. He grinned as though he took the shudder as anticipation rather than revulsion. “The Harlow Estate is no more. Architects and builders from Algorath have been working tirelessly to create the most magnificent castle you have ever seen.”

Another prayer to Keon that her responding laugh sounded light and playful despite it being born from panic. “And are there no more bed chambers, General—oh!” She covered her mouth, using the slip-up as an excuse to turn away from him again. “My apologies, Your Majesty .”

A satisfied hum rumbled deep in Loren’s chest and his hand slid down her waist to her hip, then thigh, which he gripped. “Good girl. It is much to adjust to, I am certain. It will come with time.”

Sucking in a steadying breath, Ariadne nodded. Gods, how long could she keep up this ruse? How long could she let him touch her as though it were the only thing she craved? How long could she transplant his presence with the thoughts of Azriel before she finally cracked wide open, exposing herself to his vitriol?

“The castle,” Loren continued as they passed the houses on the farthest edge of Laeton, “is outfitted for many guests and members of my Court. However, I would like for you to come to me on our wedding night as though you have never been with another man—for the law states your previous marriage never occurred. As such, you will be staying elsewhere, and if you wish to visit me prior to the wedding, you will be chaperoned at all times.”

“Elsewhere?” Her voice was softer now as the understanding settled in. She needed to get into that library. If someone was hovering over her shoulder every night, she had no chance of finding it. She continued, hoping to win him over, “Do you not trust yourself with me?”

Loren chuckled at that, and she cringed at the way he adjusted his body against her as though to hide his arousal. It did not work. “I could not hold myself back from you, my pet. You are simply…irresistible.”

My pet . Gods, if she had to listen to him call her that one more time, she would scream. Rather than tempt him to use it again, she asked, “Where, then, do you wish for me to stay? And who shall be my chaperone?”

“We are almost there.”

The highway took them straight past most of the Lords’ homes, including the Harlow Estate—now the castle . But the lane they turned down was one Ariadne had become quite familiar with in the weeks following her wedding to Azriel. Her heart kicked up the pace, and before she could say anything more, they were let through the gates of the Caldwell Manor, guarded by no less than a dozen soldiers at the entrance alone.

Ariadne tensed and swallowed hard. “Loren…please take me with you.”

Begging. He liked it when she begged. Perhaps if she pleaded enough with him, he would acquiesce. If she could only convince him to let her stay at the castle—as far from him as she could manage, of course. She would accept a chaperone. Chaperones were easy enough to avoid. To trick. To get away from.

“What is wrong?” Loren pulled his stallion to a halt at the foot of the entry steps. “I know this is not the ideal place for you after the horrors you have endured, but I believe I can change your mind.”

She shook her head and turned to him with wide eyes. “Please do not leave me here. I will do anything to go with you. Anything .”

Like putting a knife between his ribs if he ever tried to get into bed with her. At least in the nights leading up to the wedding, she knew she would be safe from needing to dodge such interactions. If all went well—which it did not seem to be at this point—she would be long gone before Loren had the audacity of calling her his wife.

A primal glint flared in Loren’s eyes, though. He stilled, considering her words, and for a long moment, Ariadne believed he would listen to her. Gaze wandering to her lips, then the peaks of her breasts at the top of her dress, he licked his lips.

Then, he shook his head.

“No, my pet.” He stroked her cheek, and she bit back the promised scream. “I do not trust myself with you so close.”

“Loren,” she whispered, letting the tears gather in her eyes, “please.”

But he dismounted in one swift motion and held out his arms to her. As she let him ease her off the saddle, he called over his shoulder, “Petre! Let the Misses know we have arrived.”

Oh, gods. Ariadne looked up to the front door that opened to the redheaded butler. His eyes widened at the sight of her before he disappeared back into the manor’s foyer. He called something she could not make out over the ringing in her ears.

Everything was falling apart. Her entire plan had hinged on her returning to the Harlow Estate, where she could wander the halls and explore the library at her leisure. Now, as she turned to look wistfully back down the drive away from the house she once loved, she did not know what she would do or how she could manage a free moment to get to those damned books.

“Ari?”

In an instant, her heart stopped. She knew that voice.

Ariadne turned to find Revelie and Camilla rushing down the front steps, clutching their dresses in their hands to keep from tripping. The very sight of them alive and as well as they could be, trapped within a prison such as they were, had her knees almost buckling.

Ignoring Loren’s smug expression, Ariadne ran to her friends and pulled them into her arms with a sob. They were alive . That vile bastard may have tortured them, but they had survived his torment.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through ragged breaths.

Revelie shook her head, drying her eyes on the cuff of her pale green dress. She shot a vicious glare over Ariadne’s shoulder and said, “We will discuss it later.”

The worst thing Ariadne had ever had to do, second only to leaving Azriel in those caves, was stepping back from her friends to take Loren’s hand in hers. She forced a smile onto her face and said with light, airy confidence, “His Majesty saved me. We are to be married. Is that not wonderful?”

Camilla did not hold back her lip’s curl of disgust as she looked from Ariadne to Loren. After a beat, she appeared to swallow something rancid, then said, “A blessing from the gods.”

Revelie, however, let her beautiful face turn cold and stony. She set her jaw and said nothing more before turning and marching back up the steps to the manor. Ariadne tracked her, heart twisting, as she edged past Petre and disappeared into the foyer.

“I told you I could change your mind,” Loren whispered in her ear, then brushed his lips along her jaw. “Now be a good girl and get these two to cooperate before the wedding. I will not have them ruining our perfect night.”

Ariadne turned to him, miscalculating their closeness and driving herself straight into his chest. She craned her head back with wide eyes and asked, “When will we wed?”

“Eager, my pet?” Loren’s hand snaked down her back to rove across her rear.

If only she had a dagger. She could endure an abrupt end to her life if it meant ensuring that man died first.

Instead, she breathed, “Yes.”

“End of week, then.” He cupped her face, hovering his mouth just above hers before pulling back. “Then we shall never be parted again.”

With that, Loren mounted his stallion and nudged the horse into a brisk trot back down the drive, leaving Ariadne alone. Finally.

Turning back to Camilla, her friend shook her head with wide eyes and said, “Please tell me this is not true.”

Ariadne glanced at the nearby soldiers. She took Camilla’s hand and started up the front steps as fast as her feet could carry her. They needed to find Revelie fast to correct everything her friend now thought of her.

When a soldier made to follow them, Ariadne turned to him and said sharply, “I will not be followed like a hound. Leave us.”

“But my orders were to—”

“I care not for your orders,” Ariadne snapped. “Or I will tell His Majesty that you attempted to touch me. I do not think he will take kindly to that which belongs to him being played with by his inferiors.”

The soldier paled, and he stopped in his tracks. “We will remain outside, then.”

“Good.” After gesturing for Petre to follow, she slammed the door shut and clicked the lock over. Once again, she checked the foyer for anyone else—the tight-lipped head of staff not included—and turned to Camilla. “I need your help.”

Azriel had not seen his brother or any of the others from the tomb in the days following Ariadne’s departure. Even Razer had been left behind after cutting his way through the soldiers Loren had sent for him, relishing the feeling of warm blood on his face and delighting in the screams he pulled from the vampires’ lips. He’d toyed with them. Let them in close before cutting them to pieces—slowly. The sounds of their deaths soothed the part of his soul that ached.

No wonder Ehrun had spent so many decades searching for destruction. The release numbed the pain.

After picking his way along the highway, taking it upon himself to dispatch any soldiers unlucky enough to come across him and shutting himself off from the vinculum to avoid any harassment from his bondheart or brother, Azriel sat on the beach of Lake Cypher’s western shore. Kall’s ax lay in the sand beside him, its blade gleaming in the early dawn light reflecting off the water’s surface. The sword on his back weighed on his shoulder more than normal, as though the very presence of the weapon burdened his soul.

He couldn’t remember how he’d made it there. The hours between Ariadne’s disappearance and him settling in beside the lake were but mere flashes of memories. Screams. Blood. Silence. Fire. Where the fire had come from, Azriel didn’t know. Did he set something aflame? It couldn’t be Razer’s. The dragon didn’t follow him, nor would he risk destroying the entire forest for a few meager soldiers.

It didn’t matter.

The only images that returned to him whenever he closed his eyes were that of Ariadne’s severed head…and his wife in the arms of the man he hated most in the world.

Because it wasn’t just an illusion anymore. It was his reality. Despite her words— my mate —she was with Loren, and where was Azriel?

Azriel was alone.

Perhaps that was how it was always meant to be. Melia was right. The unyielding agony that throttled him with every breath was what he deserved . He’d done it to himself. He’d pushed her away when he left her alone in Auhla . When he’d forced her back into that prison.

So he sat there, staring across the water with tired eyes—when had he last slept?—towards the distant city on the far side where she now resided. Where she likely danced in Loren’s arms, having found happiness at last.

I hate you more than you hate yourself .

He was, as she said, a monster. Someone like Ariadne Harlow did not love monsters. They loved princes who turned into kings. Generals that conquered kingdoms in the name of love.

Azriel clutched his horns and crunched in on himself. His knees bumped his forehead hard, making him flinch at the strange lack of coordination. A throb went through his head, delayed from the hit, and blossomed out into something larger that almost encased his entire mind.

Then, all at once, Razer broke through the barriers Azriel had erected between them. The dragon’s consciousness slammed into his like a hammer, nearly knocking him clean back into the sand.

Fingers slipping from between the annuli, Azriel grit his teeth and shoved back hard at his bondheart’s presence.

But it wasn’t enough. After not eating for almost three days, he just didn’t have the strength to fight back against the beast. As such, Razer settled himself into Azriel’s mind and began plucking through his memories like a museum gallery, commenting lazily on his endeavors since they’d separated.

“ Go away .” It was all he could muster in protest.

Razer, however, made himself comfortable. “ We’ve been looking for you .”

“ Just follow the stench of desolation .”

“ Dramatic .”

“ Why does everyone say that ?” Azriel gave him another big, mental shove to no avail. Fuck, he needed to sleep.

The dragon’s consciousness almost rumbled with amusement. “ I’m not certain if you’ve ever heard yourself before … but you are, perhaps, the most emotional creature I know. ”

To his credit, Razer picking through memories Azriel had already forgotten only sharpened them into focus. He felt almost whole again. He clung to the words his shattered bond had made him forget: Tell him I’m sorry .

Gods, he missed her more than anything.

“ Rude .” Razer prodded his mind with a mental claw. “ You never missed me like that . I was distraught when you went to Algorath .”

“ You thought I was going to die ,” Azriel snapped before lying back in the sand to stare up at the brightening sky.

A small silver cloud swept overhead. He tracked it before a realization slowly dawned on him: clouds didn’t move that fast, nor did they ever form quite so low—or flap like it had small wings. Not far behind it glided a much larger figure, dark as the night sky.

As fast as he’d laid down, Azriel shot back up. “ How’d you find me ?”

“ As if you could truly hide from me .” Razer laughed overhead, the deep rumble magnified by the water.

“ Is that …” Azriel struggled to recall the name he’d heard in the cave.

“ Almandine ,” a small voice supplied. “ I think I’m almost close enough to talk to her .”

Azriel’s heart stuttered. He pushed to his feet, swaying as the world around him turned dark from the rush. Almandine was flying east—east towards Laeton. That meant she was talking about…

“ Azriel ?” Ariadne’s voice sounded so very far away.

He watched the dragons crossing the lake together, each pump of their wings bringing them closer to the far banks. The connection he had with Razer had grown so strong over the century of them being together that he and the mature dragon could handle longer distances. Almandine’s connection to Ariadne grew, sharpening her mind to his.

“ Azriel …” she whispered, as though speaking aloud. “ I can feel you here in my mind . I do not know how .”

Ariadne felt so small in his own mind, as though she had curled in on herself. He could only imagine the way she looked so many times when she’d been uncomfortable in the past—shoulders rolled in, eyes downcast, and that perfect lower lip pulled between her teeth. Even her mind had closed in on itself.

“ Razer and I found him ,” Almandine said, her voice chipper as though oblivious to Ariadne’s mood. “ Now you two can talk .”

“ Quiet now, little one .” Razer’s distant shadow flew lower, and the small silver dragon drifted down to his back to rest. “ Stay focused .”

“ Where are you ?” Azriel asked, fighting back the urge to scream at her. With their minds connected, memory after memory slammed into him, reminding him precisely why he’d run off on his own to begin with.

“ The Caldwell Manor .”

Images of their first home together came into focus until he could see precisely where she was in that moment: curled up on the settee before the fire, a blanket wrapped around her as she watched the flames dance.

He frowned, staring across the lake as though he could see her in person. The relief of her being alone couldn’t be helped. “ He didn’t take you home, then ?”

“ I thought he would ,” she said and shoved memories out of her own mind before they could fully form and reach him. Whatever they were, he was grateful she didn’t share. “ I thought I would get the book and leave to come back to you before —”

“ Come back to me ?” Azriel couldn’t temper the frustration rolling through him.

“ You are angry with me ,” she said, her mind pulling away, shrinking back as though struck by something violent.

Azriel sighed and pressed his fists to his eyes, crouching in the sand to keep from swaying again. “ I’m not angry with you , Ariadne . I’m furious.”

She shuddered through the connection. As the dragons soared closer, he could feel the anguish that rocked her physical body on the far end. She didn’t shiver as he had thought—she cried.

“ I am so sorry …”

“ I’m furious,” he repeated and sucked in a breath to steady himself. “ I’m furious because I never asked you to do any of that . All I ever asked was for you to stay . I’m furious because I love you, and if anything happens to you …”

A long moment passed in silence. The only reason Azriel knew the connection hadn’t broken was the waves of grief ebbing and flowing from Ariadne’s side of the vinculum. Her mind, uncontrolled in comparison to his practiced use of the connection, vibrated with the emotions.

Then, all at once, the memories of the past two nights crashed into Azriel’s mind. Every one of Loren’s touches from which she’d worked so hard to keep herself from recoiling. Every disgusting remark that came from his mouth and made her stomach roil. Every agonizing second he spent in her presence while she tried to fool herself into enjoying by imagining Azriel in Loren’s place.

“ I’ll come get you ,” he said, heart cracking. He should be there. With Razer, he could burn all of Laeton to ash in mere minutes. The very thought of it made his bond purr with anticipation.

At that, Ariadne steeled herself. She pushed back on the idea. “ I have seen the ballistae. He is ready for the dragons. I did this to myself , so I will get myself out of it .”

“ You don’t have to be alone in this .”

“ Revelie and Camilla are with me .” Then she said the words he so desperately wanted to avoid. “ He and I wed in three nights .”

Azriel scrubbed his face and groaned at the thought. “ Please , my love …”

“ Once I am in that house ,” she continued, “ I will find the book .”

His stomach churned. “ If he touches you —”

“ I will not let him get that far .”

He reached out between their consciousnesses to hold her in comfort. Solidarity. She latched onto him as though he were her last line to this life and held fast. Through the connection, she attempted to fuse herself to him.

“ I love you ,” Azriel said, holding her in the only way he could for as long as the dragons allowed.

Ariadne shuddered. “ Until the very end .”

Without warning, the connection severed. Azriel’s heart caught in his throat, and he turned his attention back to the silhouettes of the dragons in the sky. Only silence—Razer’s mind became untouchable.

Footsteps behind him had Azriel lunging for Kall’s ax in the sand. His fingers wrapped around the handle as someone leaped onto his back, arm around his neck. Before he could so much as rear back to throw off the attacker, fingers pried into his mouth.

Well, if they wanted to get bitten, so be it—

Blood poured between his lips the moment they parted, long before he had the chance to clamp down. The familiar tang had his mind scrambling to keep up with what had just happened as magic coated his tongue. Then, before he could so much as react to the first assault, a second onslaught of the vile liquid had him snapping his jaws shut, his attacker’s fingers releasing their hold.

Despite not forcing the blood up the hollows of his fangs where it would enter his system immediately, his head swam. The ax slipped from his grip, no matter how hard he clenched his fist. The world tipped on its axis, and before Azriel could comprehend what was happening, he watched the sun break over the horizon on the far side of the lake, half his face pressed into the sand.

His attacker—when had they let him go?—rolled him onto his back so the golds and pinks of morning stretched out before him. Words were exchanged just out of his line of sight.

The next thing Azriel knew, he was being slung over someone’s shoulder.

Body and mind numb, he hung like a sack of grains and swayed with each step. A voice spoke, though he could not tell to whom they directed their words. The mix of common and dhemon tongue slogged through his brain, thick and clear as mud. “I’m sorry, Rholki .”