Page 1 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Chapter 1

It had been two years since Ariadne’s first debut. Vampires of the aristocracy never debuted twice—to do so was unheard of in their rigid Society.

As if disappearing into the mountains and returning an entirely different person did not make her enough of an anomaly.

Ten…

Ariadne paused at the Temple doors and shut her eyes tight, inhaling deeply.

Run. She needed to put distance between herself and the throng congregating inside those doors. Succumbing to the overwhelming urge, however, would be unacceptable to her father. The highest sitting Councilman, the one who had insisted she return for the courting Season as a debutante, could not bear the shame. Not again.

Nine…

Exhale long and slow. Once upon a time, she had not required such breathing exercises. In fact, when she stood before the High Priestess the first time, she had been an eager participant.

Then the abduction happened.

Eight…

She learned the iniquity of the Society, the truth whispered to her by monsters as they wrote it into her skin and soul. Now, she wanted no part of it. She much preferred the idea of living a life as a spinster on the outskirts of the wicked aristocracy, like the friend who had sewn her a new dress for the Reveal.

Seven…

Like all aristocratic vampire women, however, she had no choice. Despite begging to be left behind, the words had fallen on deaf ears. So she had donned her black dress on her too-thin body, pinned up her midnight curls, and made up her blue eyes with a fine liner.

But to dress up was one thing. To walk the same path as she had two years before as though nothing haunted her now was something entirely different.

Six…

A hand slipped into hers and squeezed gently. Relief rushed through her at the motion. Her younger sister, Emillie, had taken to doing it as a silent sign of camaraderie. Ariadne squeezed back once without opening her eyes.

Five…

She exhaled hard and laid her free hand on the Temple door to steady herself. Voices drifted from the obsidian hall beyond, onlookers preparing to witness who Keon would deem as the Season’s most desirable.

As if the god, hidden away in the Underworld, wished to evaluate vampires before he collected their souls. Ridiculous.

Four…

Ariadne opened her eyes, and her sister’s pristine face, with her matching freckles and oceanic irises, swam into view. Thin, blue veins stretched up her throat from the neckline of her red gown to frame her face—the mark of a pure-blooded vampire, a Caersan.

Though Emillie’s brows pinched with concern, Ariadne offered a pleasant, reassuring smile. It did not fool her sister. It never did.

Three…

She could do it all again. She had to. Another Season of scrutiny and social survival. No number of vampires, no matter how shrewd, could scare off the daughter of the Princeps, Lord Markus Harlow. She had endured worse.

Two…

Another deep inhale, and Ariadne took a wobbly step into the Temple where the other Caersan women stood, awaiting the High Priestess. Most wore red like Emillie, a sign of their eligibility for yet another year. Only a handful wore black like Ariadne, and all their mouths pursed with indignation at the sight of her debuting a second time.

If they wanted to gossip, as Caersans were wont to do, she would give them something to gossip about.

One…

Ariadne Harlow loosed the final breath, twisted her fingers into her skirts, and lifted her head high. This Season would be different. This Season, she had a plan. This Season would be hers.

If marriage was her only option, she would pursue the only Caersan man she desired, the one she knew would keep her happy and safe—and she would do so without remorse.

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