Page 104 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Azriel turned to Sul. “Not if you don’t go now.”

Then the ex-guard slung the unconscious vampire over his bloody shoulder and started off.

Ariadne stood for a long moment, taking in the dead bodies around them. How she held herself together in the midst of that carnage, a reminder of the past she had suffered through and survived, Emillie could not fathom. The fight had shaken her, and she had not endured horrors as her sister had.

Perhaps Ariadne was numb to it. The way she froze and let the monsters approach demonstrated the extent to which they had poisoned her. Whether her fawn-like reaction had been due to fear of or discipline by the dhemons, Emillie could not tell. If there was one thing she recalled Ariadne repeating again and again, it was that she had tried so hard to get away. At first.

Now she froze.

Emillie slid her hand into her sister’s and squeezed.

The weak response said enough.

Leave from duty as General did not bother Loren as much as he anticipated. He continued to utilize his office space at the Hub, Valenul’s main base of military operations, but not for his usual paperwork and meetings. Those had been handed off to his second-in-command until the Council decided his fate.

As if they could keep him from leading his soldiers for long.

Loyal officers continued reporting to Loren as they would have prior to his temporary removal. He knew the ridiculous demands being asked of them and gave instructions on how to best question and refuse the duties assigned in a subtle strike against the Princeps’ decision.

Between the visits, Loren poured over books and scrolls filled with the history of vampires. Dating back to their time as mages, nearly five thousand years prior, he chose the hand-written books describing the first vampires to enter Keonis Valley and create the vampiric kingdom of Valenul. The first were the Caldwells.

And their family line did not extend far, as Loren suspected.

The Caldwells who took up their place in Monsumbra never left, and when the extended family arrived, they were not accepted in the same manner. Many lines ended as daughters married into other families and sons died at the hands of dhemons. So many, in fact, the likelihood that the last Lord Governor Caldwell had many cousins left to carry on his lineage was slim.

However, Loren did find the woman Azriel claimed as his mother. No children were recorded in any text he found, though her unmarried status would only corroborate the idea that he was born of a fae male.

The only issue was the lack of fae knowledge amidst the vampiric histories. Loren’s connection to the high fae General provided few documents.

And none of them mentioned a fae by the name of Azazel.

Loren sifted through his notes again. Names, birthdates, marriages, and offspring blurred before his eyes. Few vampire and fae marriages occurred, particularly in the Caldwell family. None of it added up to produce Azriel Tenebra, yet the way the Society was prone to hide unwanted pregnancies did not make for valid information.

He turned back to the most recent Caldwells. The original Lord Governor to settle in Monsumbra did so with his first wife and two sons—all of whom were slaughtered by dhemons. His second wife bore only one son and, according to the records, took in an Original daughter from another family—the Wynnes. That Caersan girl, Margot, ended up marrying their son, Garth, upon his maturity.

Margot and Garth had only one daughter, Mariana, who married once and bore two children. The names and dates of all her relations, however, were blacked out after their death at the hands of dhemons. An entire family, removed from the histories.

To his displeasure, this was also not uncommon. A number of family lines came to abrupt ends and were inked or burned from the books. No one wanted to remember such terrible times.

Loren leaned closer to the blots of ink beside Mariana, forcing his eyes to focus on the thin lines which protruded and disappeared beneath the mess. A curl at the top of her husband appeared as an N or M. The children’s names, almost completely illegible, showed signs of common vowels with no clues as to what they were.

The door opened before he could wager any guesses, and a young messenger slipped into the room. He bowed quickly, placed a letter on the desk, and departed. As quick and efficient as ever despite Loren’s demotion.

The nondescript white seal of the letter told Loren precisely who sent it before he even cracked the wax. He unfolded the paper with deft fingers and scanned the short missive.

General—

Attack at Laeton Park. Harlows are fine. Gracen killed in action.

AT speaks dhemon tongue.

Sul

Loren’s chest swelled. This was precisely the damning information he had waited so patiently for. With mere nights from the wedding, he did not have time to save Ariadne from the inevitable nuptials, but he could utilize the event to gather more evidence.

He stood and moved to the fire crackling low in the hearth along an adjacent wall. The letter crinkled in his fist, then he tossed it into the flames. For a long moment, Loren watched the edges catch, curl, and disintegrate to ash.

Then he returned to the notes on his desk, dipped his pen in the inkwell, and scrawled in the empty space above Azriel’s name two words: dhemon sire.

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