Page 133 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“They would not—“

“They would.” He wiped his face on his sleeve, smearing the crimson everywhere. Then he leveled his gaze at her. “And they will come after you next.”

Chapter 29

Emillie thanked Sul as he helped her down from her horse at the front of the Caldwells’ Laeton manor. The guard nodded in silent acknowledgment and, not for the first time, she lamented Gracen’s death. He had been far more pleasant company on such ventures out of the house.

The butler opened the door wide upon her approach and swept a deep bow as she entered. “Welcome, Miss Harlow.”

“Thank you.” She pulled the long green cloak from her shoulders and handed it to him. “My sister?”

“In the drawing room, miss.” He smiled and gestured toward the stairs. “Tea has just been brought up.”

Up the steps and down the corridor to the deep blue drawing room with its gold trim, a fireplace at either end, and several arrangements for sitting. Plush couches and chairs sat before the hearths, and a pianoforte rested beside a tall window filled with moonlight. At the table near the center of the room was her sister.

Ariadne looked up from the book pinned open between her fingers and smiled before standing. “Good evening.”

Emillie’s heart throbbed. She rushed forward and tucked herself into her sister’s open arms. With the Caldwells’ departure date approaching, these quick visits would soon become a thing of the past.

“How have you been?” Ariadne pulled back and held her at arm’s length, cheeks flushed and eyes shimmering.

“I had a handful of suitors over the last few nights.” She made a face at the prospect of entertaining any Caersan man. All she could think of while sitting across from the peacocking vampires were the women she flirted with at the Dodd Estate during Soltium, the Rusan maid, Sephone, included.

Laughing, Ariadne sat again, pushed her book aside, and poured them both a cup of tea. “Who were the lucky Caersans who made it past Father?”

In an instant, Emillie sobered. She took her place across from her sister and accepted the tea. “General Gard was one.”

Ariadne choked on her drink. “Excuse me?”

“Father believes it is only a matter of time before he returns to his position.” Emillie’s stomach sank. “The General has been meeting with him privately over the last fortnight, and they have made amends.”

“Amends.” Ariadne scoffed and placed pieces of lemon cake on a plate for them both. “Did Father forget what he said—what he did?”

With a shake of her head, Emillie accepted her serving and bit her lip. “It would seem all is forgiven. Father claims he lost his temper and made a brash decision that he was then forced to stand by due to its publicity.”

“Stay away from him.” Her sister sipped the tea again, this time successfully. “Do not trust him.”

“Do not trust who?” Azriel stepped through the door and bowed to Emillie. Dark circles lined his eyes. If she did not know better, she would have assumed him ill. “Welcome.”

The huge Lord Governor strode around the table, laid a heavy hand on his wife’s shoulder, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Like when he was a guard, he moved with as much grace as a Caersan man—save for the limp to his step, more exaggerated than usual. Emillie eyed his leg and noted the way he shifted his weight to lower himself into the chair beside Ariadne.

“Apparently, Loren Gard has taken an interest in Emillie.” Ariadne poured her husband a cup of tea and sliced him a piece of lemon cake as well. “He called on her earlier this week.”

Whatever exhaustion plagued the half-vampire vanished in an instant. He sat a little straighter, eyebrows pinching. “Excuse me?”

“He has made amends with our father,” Ariadne explained. “Now he is attempting to court her.”

Azriel shook his head, vibrant green eyes cooling from his long-standing vendetta. “I’ll speak with your father.”

Emillie nodded in thanks, though she was not certain he would have much impact on her father’s decisions. The political aspect of a Caersan marriage outweighed anything else. What needed to happen was the one conversation she dreaded the most. Only then, perhaps, would he understand her reservations.

Understand, but not acknowledge. As was customary within the Society, she would still be married off to whichever suitor her father preferred. She could only pray to any god listening that it ended up being a Caersan she could tolerate.

Loren Gard did not make it onto that short list.

They ate their cake after that, discussing the merits of the other suitors and which Caersan ladies Emillie had spoken to. With Azriel’s recent insight into the vampires of the Society due to his new position, his input became invaluable. Some of the lords, he claimed, would not mind a wife who preferred women as he was almost certain that they preferred men. A marriage of convenience would be the best choice for two like individuals.

“Perhaps Madan would be willing,” Emillie said thoughtfully after a moment. “I know he has a fae lover, but just in the eyes of the Society?”

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