Page 139 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Azriel backtracked into the manor and ran back to the study. The desk was askew, and the foot of the chair Ariadne had tripped into had gouged a line into the wood floor. None of it mattered, though the displaced objects reminded him of their struggle through her bedroom.

He collected his sword from behind the desk and slipped a dagger into his boot holster. Though she believed the General would keep her safe—his stomach roiled at the thought—she’d be dead within a day. That useless sack of flesh was more concerned about his own neck than the woman he once claimed to want to marry.

Before he almost broke her arm, of course.

… hate… hate… hate you…

The dawn of the first day, he’d shielded her from the sun in a small hut in the forest. Again, he almost left her there and let her go. But he’d built that hut years prior for Madan. His brother used it to stave off the sunlight when traveling, and if he left Ariadne there, he’d forfeit Madan’s life.

By the time he’d reached the dhemon keep built into the mountainside, Ariadne stopped begging to be released. He presented her to Ehrun with as straight a face as he could muster.

“Miss Harlow,” the dhemon had purred and stroked her cheek.

Azriel’s body jerked in response, an automatic need to break the bastard’s fingers for touching her. He held back, but it’d been too late.

Ehrun’s eyes snapped to him, and a slow grin spread across his face. He switched to the dhemon tongue and said, “Oh, this will be fun.”

Then those same dhemons who’d dragged his brother away marched forward. Ten of them. They grabbed Azriel, kicked out the back of his knees, and dragged him back. His frenzy to escape increased when the doors opened again.

Darien Gard stepped in, sword at the ready.

Then he screamed, knowing precisely what would happen. The Caersan didn’t stand a chance against the horde of dhemons. In the confusion, Ariadne spat in Ehrun’s face and tried to run to her fiancé.

The last thing he’d seen of her before the door closed between them was Ehrun backhanding her so hard she collapsed to the ground before advancing on Darien.

I hate you more than you hate yourself.

Azriel raced back to the front door and took off into the night on foot. Saddling Jasper would take too long. He needed to be ready for a fight at any moment, and sitting atop a horse made him a target.

He made it a dozen paces outside the manor gates before he saw the red eyes. The dhemon’s sharp teeth flashed in the moonlight as he smirked at Azriel. Until that moment, anyone watching the house would’ve assumed he and Ariadne were together in that carriage.

Now they knew the truth.

Fuck. Fuck.

The dhemon disappeared into the shadows, his dark blue skin and black clothes fading from sight. He moved like a wraith. No snapping of branches or shuffling of the underbrush. No sign of which way he moved except, maybe, the direction of the carriage.

I hate… I hate you…

The flogging Azriel endured at the hands of Ehrun’s cronies had been nothing compared to being forced to listen to Ariadne’s screams. Pain and suffering he’d caused for a brother he wasn’t even certain still lived. Worse than that, however, had been the endless silence. He didn’t know whether she slept or had perished at Ehrun’s hands.

Yet somehow, Madan had freed himself with a deal of his own, concocted a plan, and prepared to do what Azriel failed to accomplish. As Azriel clawed at the handleless door and rained empty threats upon anyone who passed close enough to hear, his brother did what needed to be done.

“We have to leave,” Madan had hissed when he opened the cell door and started down the hall toward the back exit. “Now.”

“No.” Azriel grabbed his arm, stopping his brother mid-stride. “Get her out. I’ll keep him distracted.”

Madan’s face had paled in the low light. “He’ll kill you.”

“So be it.”

With that, he had taken the stairs from the dungeon three at a time. He’d wanted so badly to make Ehrun pay for what he did—for what he’d made him do. But Azriel didn’t yet understand the thoughtless rage of a bonded dhemon. Separated by death from his mate made Ehrun far more powerful than Azriel could dream of being.

Hate—hate—hate—

Now he knew. Now Azriel had glimpsed the suffering Ehrun endured for decades before seeking vengeance. It broke even the strongest man.

Though he’d suspected the dhemons to be watching his home after killing one a few nights before, Azriel hadn’t expected them to act so swiftly. They knew something was amiss between them, and this was their chance to act. Even if they didn’t plan to go after her, they’d need to gather their numbers to come after him again.

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