Page 121 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

No news was good news, he told himself again and again. Madan was safe.

Madan had to be safe. Because if Madan wasn’t safe, he’d rain hellfire down on every last monster who dared raise a hand against him. He’d done it before. He’d do it again.

A soft knock on the study door dragged him from the sudden rush of white-hot fury. He loosened his grip on the pen in his hand so it dropped to the desk, a crack running from the nib through the handle. His hands shook, and he pressed his palms onto the desk to keep them steady.

“Enter.”

Ariadne slipped into the room, her dark hair braided into a crown around her head. “It is time.”

He stared at her, mind blank for a long moment.

“To go to the Dodd’s,” she supplied with a small smile. “Are you ready?”

The Dodd’s for Soltium. The summer solstice meant being locked away in a manor with close friends and family to celebrate the longest day of the year. By doing so in a closed home, curtains drawn and doors locked, Caersan vampires could make use of the entire manor without fear of the sun.

He’d seen what happened to pure-blood vampires when they contracted aegrisolis. The steady decay of a living vampire caused by the exposure to sunlight made his stomach churn. Mere minutes in daylight provided enough time to set the process in motion at a cellular level, and after many nights, the blight would finally claim the sorry soul.

Which was why he’d killed any vampire he met suffering from aegrisolis.

It’s midday.

He’d tried to make his brother leave at the sun’s highest point of the day. It could’ve been Madan he killed next—out of mercy.

“Azriel?” Ariadne took a step closer.

He shook his head to clear away the gruesome thought. Madan was due to be at Camilla’s for the celebrations. They could make amends then.

“My love.” He pressed heavily into his palms and stood to walk around the broad, wood desk. “I’m ready.”

Color flushed her cheeks. “What did you call me?”

Warmth flooded his chest, and Azriel closed the distance between them in two long steps. His fingertips brushed over her collarbone before curling around the back of her neck, thumb stroking her cheek. She tilted her head back to look at him with wide eyes, and he pressed his lips to hers, gentle and restrained. When he pulled back, he said, “My love. Are you not?”

Ariadne pulled her lower lip in as though savoring the kiss, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth. “I am, yes.”

Oh, if he hadn’t already claimed to be ready to leave, he’d take her right then. Between the flush of her cheeks and the curve of her mouth, she appeared the same as when she wished for more than a kiss. Most nights, he’d happily indulge her—if she hadn’t glanced at the door.

It’d been nights since she’d seen her sister and best friends. To keep her from them any longer than necessary would be cruel, particularly when she would soon go weeks or even months between visits.

“Hmm,” he growled and pulled her close so their bodies pressed together. “I’d be satisfied locking that door and keeping you to myself all night, but I suppose I can share you this once.”

The smile broke free, her fangs flashing. “How generous of you.”

“I can be,” he said huskily, bending to nudge his face into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her floral fragrance and released the breath with a groan. “Sometimes.”

“It is strange, being married,” she mused. He stilled, then pulled away again to look at her, waiting for her elaboration. “I feel like the same person—you feel like the same person to me—and yet we have both changed so much.”

Azriel raised a brow. “How so?”

“I am more… peaceful. Like all my worries have somehow disappeared.” Ariadne ran her hands up his chest, her nimble fingers pinching the lapel of his vest as she studied the brocade. “And you seem so much more at ease, even with your new responsibilities.”

He twirled a loose curl around a finger before pushing it behind her ear, chest swelling. “I am. And I can’t express how it makes me feel to hear you say all of that. If I can be honest…I’ve been so worried you’ve regretted your choice.”

Her eyes lit up at his words, and she lifted onto her toes to peck his lips. “Never.”

The single word should’ve made his heart soar. It should’ve caused pride to burst forth. It should’ve been all he needed to hear to feel even an ounce of that peace she spoke of.

Instead, his stomach soured, and a lump grew in his throat. The very air around him drew thin with each breath. She didn’t mean it, even if she didn’t know it yet.

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