Page 158 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Then he hurried back outside, and side-by-side with his wife, he carried the bodies of vampires and threw them down the cellar stairs. Neither of them said anything as they worked. They merely hauled corpses off the lawn in silence, smearing blood across the guard house floor, and when they finished, Ariadne closed the cellar door with a snap. She jiggled the handle to ensure it locked, then nodded to him.

How she kept so calm throughout it all was a mystery.

He picked up his sword, wiped the blood on his trousers, and slid it back into the sheath. Then he gathered Madan into his arms again, and they departed from the guard house, Ariadne closing the door behind them in silence. They hurried back up the drive. As they reached the manor, they slowed their pace until they reached their carriage at a near-crawling pace. No one looked out the windows. No one saw them, covered from head to foot in blood, as they hauled Madan into the carriage and ordered the coachman to drive—fast.

With his brother laid out across one bench seat, Azriel sat beside Ariadne. They trundled down the driveway, past the empty gate towers, and onto the highway. For a handful of minutes, they still didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. All at once he wanted to scream at her for putting herself in such danger while simultaneously throwing himself at her feet to thank her.

Ariadne broke the reticence with a quiet question, “What is liquid sunshine?”

He stared at the rotted hand for a long moment, understanding dawning. “Mages created it. It holds the same properties as the sun and is used to kill vampires.”

“Why?” she whispered. “Why would they make such a thing?”

“Because Caersans have been using their blood to null mage magic for centuries.”

Ariadne looked up at him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not something the Council wants everyone to know.” He grit his teeth. Once again, their greed had come back around to destroy his family with his brother, the most kind-hearted vampire he knew, the latest victim.

“Why do they do it at all?”

“Prisoners,” Azriel said and rubbed his face, the drying blood crumbling beneath his fingers. “And anyone who demands equal treatment in Valenul.”

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. “What about the fae?”

“Caersan blood doesn’t do any permanent damage to them.” He pushed loose hair back from his face and sighed. “But it can dampen their powers temporarily.”

“Gods…” She shook her head. The same reaction he had when he uncovered the extent of the Council’s hidden atrocities. “And my father?”

Azriel grimaced. “He discovered it.”

Ariadne covered her mouth with a hand and stared at Madan. Her father—their father—had begun a silent war against not just the dhemons but the mages of Algorath. Some of the most dangerous mortals across the continent of Myridia.

“I almost touched it,” she said after a long moment of silence. “There was a vial of it in the cellar with Madan.”

He buried his face in his hands again, elbows on knees. He couldn’t handle it anymore. With the way the night began, anticipating an entourage of soldiers to haul him away, facing the very real possibility of his wife leaving him, and then everything with Madan. No. It was all too much. If she’d touched the liquid sunshine, she’d be in the same boat as his brother. Possibly worse.

“Azriel,” she whispered and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I am not hurt.”

“But you could’ve been.” Hot tears rolled down his face from behind his hands. “Everything is my fault. All of it. From the very beginning. I’m so sorry, Ariadne. I’m so…so sorry.”

She pulled his hands away from his face and replaced them with her own on his cheeks. Her blue gaze swept across the blood-flaked skin before landing on his eyes. “I know.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he rasped and leaned forward slowly until their foreheads touched. She didn’t move away. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “But I’ll spend every breath left in my lungs proving myself to you.”

Ariadne’s thumbs stroked his face, slow and soft. “I do not hate you, Azriel.”

His eyes snapped open again. “What?”

“I cannot say—“

“I don’t mind,” he cut in, breathless. The dark, consuming shadows that had encroached on him over the last few hours eased. The knot in his stomach loosened. “Just…I want to make things right for you.”

A sad smile curved her perfect lips, and she sat back a bit to look at him fully. Her hands dropped from his face. “No.”

He frowned. “No?”

“Make it right for you.“ She took his hand and kissed his calloused knuckles. “Fix that, and this—us—will find a way back together.”

---