Page 140 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Because now that she hated him, he had nothing left to lose and everything to gain by killing them all.

Chapter 31

By the time Ariadne reached the Harlow Estate—no, home—her tears had dried. She had spent the carriage ride bent over double and praying for the waking terror in which she now found herself to end. Again and again, memories of fear and pain pelted her. Each one began and ended with the face of the dhemon who started it all.

Azriel’s face.

How had she not seen it before? The similarities were undeniable. The shape of his eyes, the quirk of his mouth, and the way he pinched his brows when asked a question he didn’t want to answer.

The navy complexion, ebony horns, and crimson irises of her memories distracted her from seeing what was right in front of her in the guise of a vampire.

A monster.

When the carriage halted at the foot of the manor’s front steps, Ariadne sat up straight and dragged her palms across her face. Though she doubted she looked remotely presentable, she smoothed out the skirt of her dress nonetheless. The door opened, and she looked up at the familiar, towering manor.

Ariadne’s hands shook as she made her way up the front steps. It had not been long since Emillie departed from the Caldwell manor. What would her sister think of her showing up unannounced? Would her father send her back?

She could not go back. Not now. Not ever.

“Lady Caldwell,” the butler said upon opening the door. The name grated on her ears. He bowed her into the foyer and shut her inside. “The Princeps is not expecting you.”

“Has my sister returned?”

He inclined his head. “Of course.”

“Tell my father I am visiting.” Ariadne started for the stairs, unable to keep eye contact with the Rusan. “I do not know for how long.”

The butler frowned. “Shall I prepare a room?”

A room—not her room. She did not belong here anymore. Whether she liked it or not, she had been married off to a man she despised. A man whose face loomed in the shadows and leered at her from over Ehrun’s shoulder in her sleeping terrors.

And to think, she had once thought it to be General Loren Gard.

“Yes, please,” she rasped, ignoring the burning in her throat.

“Will the Lord Governor be joining you this evening?”

Ariadne swallowed hard, and her grip on the banister tightened. “No. No, he will not.”

The better question was whether Azriel would ever join her again. Despite her loathing, she could not find the courage or words to expose him. Explaining to her father who, or what, Azriel Caldwell truly was made her blood run cold. The thought of him in chains again, this time headed for the gallows…

At the top of the stairs, she paused again, a jolt of pain ricocheting through her heart. She clutched her middle and stared straight ahead with wide eyes. No, she would not cry again. Not here where questions would be asked.

“Ari?” Emillie’s voice floated down the corridor from the direction of her suite. “Did I forget something?”

She dragged in a shuddering breath and stood a little straighter. Forcing a small smile on her face, she turned to her sister. “No. I realized how much I missed home.”

“Home is with your husband now.” Her father’s voice echoed from the foyer. Her whole body tensed again. “Why have you come?”

Emillie’s brows creased. Her sharp eyes never missed anything. No matter how hard Ariadne tried to hide her true emotions, her sister discovered the truth. Without a word, Emillie slipped a hand into hers and squeezed once.

“He is busy,” Ariadne said as she turned toward her father. He paused at the landing and lifted a quizzical brow. She continued, “I am hoping to stay until the ball—to spend one last day with you both before the move.”

Something softened in his features. His eyes went distant for a breath before refocusing as though shaking off a memory long-forgotten. “Azriel will be attending, yes?”

She bit her lip, stomach churning. There would be no escaping the prison she had locked herself in. Oh, if she could go back and fix it all, she would have let him leave. She would have stepped aside before he could discover the bruise, before she could make the terrible mistake of kissing him. All of it would have been avoided.

“Of course,” she breathed with the shadow of a smile. “Of course.”

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