Page 101 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

The emerald lawn rolled out before her. Several dirt and gravel paths cut through, winding in and out of sight behind hills and shrubbery. Trees, lush with new foliage, spread their branches wide to shade the Rusan, who primarily utilized the park while the Caersan slept.

All too soon, her night vision took hold of the memory and washed the space with dark hues. Though she could see as well as she once did in daylight, it did not change the tones of night.

A hand brushed against hers, jolting her from the thoughts. Emillie looked to her sister, who smiled and gestured forward.

So Ariadne’s final promenade about Laeton Park as an unmarried Caersan woman began.

“I must admit,” Emillie said as they started off and looked up at Azriel, “I am not happy with you.”

Ariadne whipped her gaze around, and Azriel’s face paled as he said, “Pardon me?”

She could not hide the curl of her lips. “You are taking from me the one person I rely on most to keep me from withering away from boredom.”

Now Azriel smiled a slow, cat-like smile. “It appears you’ll need to visit often, then.”

Emillie groaned. “But Monsumbra is so far away.”

“We will not be leaving right away,” Ariadne reassured her and took her hand for a big squeeze. “After the wedding, there are Council meetings and, of course, Soltium.”

Her heart leapt at the mention of her favorite holiday—Summer Solstice. The three days and nights of celebration took place at the home of several Caersan families with their closest friends. Camilla’s parents had already expressed their intention to invite them all to their manor for the duration.

“But who will be taking care of Eastwood throughout all this?” Emillie looked up at Azriel expectantly.

The new Lord Governor did not miss a beat. “Madan and the Steward are more than capable of handling business while I am unavailable.”

“No doubt.”

They started down a gentle slope onto a wide gravel path that looped the perimeter of the park. A family of low-ranking Caersan vampires Emillie had not seen before played nearby with their young. The boy, no older than twenty, still sported his round face and small, gangly limbs. His sister, less than a handful of years old, rode along on her mother’s hip, giggling merrily at her brother’s silly games. Both parents watched their offspring with bright eyes, oblivious to the passerby.

Ariadne, however, took note of them, same as Emillie. She did not comment or even probe Azriel about his feelings on building a family together. Her gaze flickered from one vampire to the next before fixating on a distant point ahead of them.

No, she did not suppose Ariadne looked forward to those prospects. While she never explained what happened in those mountains, her sudden aversion to touch and affection painted a vivid image. One Emillie desperately wished she had not conjured—and one she hoped was as fictional as her sister’s favorite books.

To his credit, Azriel glanced at Ariadne then and said nothing. He had always been observant of her sister’s moods—her wants and needs and distastes—and this was no different. Nothing seemed to slip his notice.

“Have you seen your friend from the Bistro again?” Ariadne asked suddenly, turning to her with a pointed look.

Friend. Of course, she meant Kyra but could not say precisely what they had been together. If they had been anything but a passing kiss.

“No,” Emillie said with a small smile. “Perhaps it is for the best.”

“Pity.” Ariadne frowned. “She seemed nice enough.”

Emillie snorted back a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Did you know,” Ariadne said conspiratorially and leaning closer to drop her voice, “Madan also has a good friend back east. Perhaps you will meet him when you come to visit.”

For a long moment, Emillie’s mind went blank. Then all the dots connected, and she laughed, nodding. “Yes, I would like that.”

Azriel, however, did not look amused. Nor did he appear angry with Ariadne’s loose lips. Instead, he looked between them, jaw tight and brows furrowing with concern.

“Will we not be meeting him?” Ariadne turned her face up to him and tilted her head.

“Whelan doesn’t come to town often.” Azriel sighed. “It’s very difficult, really. He travels a lot.”

Emillie pursed her lips. “Madan is very patient.”

“He’s had to deal with me his entire life,” Azriel said with a grin. “He’s the most patient man I know.”

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