Page 123 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Are you certain?” Emillie looked back to the parlor filled with Caersans paying no attention to them absconding away. Her father held out his arm to Azriel, their greeting lost in the distance and din of conversation. Other Caersan men gathered around to speak, but before she could see much else, her feet hit the bottom stair, and she tripped forward.

Ariadne gave her an exasperated look. “When has Camilla ever given us the time to collect ourselves before barging into our rooms? It is our turn.”

This was a side of her sister that Emillie had not seen in quite some time. Over the last year, Ariadne had been reserved, save for the occasional biting response. Quiet acquiescence to their father’s whims had taken hold of her—until, of course, the duel between Loren and Azriel. That night changed everything.

The wedding only solidified the shift from the ghostly shadow to the woman Ariadne had once been. Outspoken, thrill-seeking, and mischievous. Whatever she found in Azriel healed much of the damage accrued in the mountains.

Up the stairs they went and along a wide, brightly lit corridor lined with many doors. Rusan servants moved in and out of the rooms beyond, suites prepared for the many guests lingering downstairs. The music for the ball would begin soon, and yet they moved farther and farther from the massive ballroom.

Much to Emillie’s dismay, Ariadne did not stop to knock on Camilla’s door before letting herself in. On the far side, the suite diverged into two rooms. Directly in front of them, a division wall hung with a large painting separated the two main rooms of the suite. To their left, Camilla’s cerulean-painted bedroom shone with the flames from the fireplace. To their right, her matching sitting room opened like an invitation with comfortable chairs and sofas, a writing desk near the window, and a small table for tea.

They went right. Ariadne let go of her arm and called out for their friend as she swept through the sitting area before settling on one of the sofas farthest from the fireplace. Emillie followed at a distance, discomfort curling in her gut. It all seemed very intrusive.

Camilla poked her head out from a door to the space between the two main rooms, her hair half-piled, half-braided on her head. At first, those golden brows pinched together hard. At the sight of them, however, her face relaxed into a broad grin.

“Why, dolls, what are you doing up here?” She stepped out of the room wearing a sheer robe, her every curve on display.

Emillie swallowed hard and snapped her gaze to her hands, ignoring the sudden heat building in her core. This was not how she imagined the night beginning.

“Waiting for you,” Ariadne said, standing to greet their friend.

Like Emillie, Camilla hesitated at the embrace before returning the gesture with uncertainty. “My, my, my. Things have changed, have they not?”

“More than you know.” Ariadne smiled, then looked at Emillie with a raised brow. “Are you okay?”

Camilla chuckled and lowered herself into a chair. She crossed her legs and shifted the robe to obscure more of her features. “Do not be ashamed, doll. You are fine to look. After all, you came into my room unannounced. You are lucky I am clothed at all.”

Heat rose to Emillie’s face, and she glared at her sister. “I was dragged in here.”

“Is that so?” Camilla raised an elegant brow at Ariadne. “It has been a while since you have wandered a manor like this.”

Ariadne’s small smile spread. “I no longer require a chaperone.”

Another laugh from Camilla. “Indeed, you do not. How has marriage been?”

Emillie looked at her sister. After so many months claiming she would rather live out her life as an unmarried Caersan spinster, she seemed more than content now she finally shared blood with a man. Even if the man was half-fae.

Biting her lip, Ariadne’s cheeks flushed again. “Delightful, actually.”

“You seem far more at ease,” Emillie noted, “than when you had been courted by the General.”

Their friend scoffed and shook her head. “That putrid bag of flesh—“

“Camilla!” Emillie scolded and covered her smile with a hand. “You cannot speak of him that way.”

“After what he did to her,” Camilla scoffed and nodded to Ariadne, “he deserves far worse.”

“He is still the General!”

“And he is on probation.” The Caersan shook her head. “If he returns to his position after all he has done, I will be greatly surprised.”

Ariadne raised her brows. “Do not forget the pull his father has with the Council. Even with Azriel as Lord Governor, he does not have the same influence as the Gards.”

“Perhaps,” Camilla admitted without sounding remotely as though she meant it. “Your father does, however, and he is the one who revoked his position. The ex-General will not be reinstated so long as he maintains his stance on the matter.”

“Are the Gards in attendance?” Emillie asked with a glance at the door as though they could be standing just beyond, listening in on their conversation.

Camilla huffed. “No. They are throwing their own Soltium celebrations.”

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