Page 163 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

He expected to die.

“I love you” would have been his final words to her. No request for forgiveness or explanation of his past actions. No demand for her except one thing: stay safe and know he loved her.

Two simple requests.

And the urgent feeling of his lips had only solidified how she truly felt: she loved him. She would not stop loving him. Not for something outside his control.

From the moment Ehrun had held her and Madan and presented his ultimatum, she knew Azriel had never lied as she once suspected. He protected his brother at all costs, even if the price was his own life.

And yet, when he took on his dhemon form, Ariadne could not help the spike of fear and loathing.

“My Lady,” Bella said, arriving only moments later. “I have what you requested.”

Ariadne nodded, dried her face, and joined Bella as she made her way to the bedroom. They entered together, drawing Azriel’s attention, and closed in.

“Bandages, my Lord.” Bella laid out the supplies. “Clean water and an Algorathian salve.”

Azriel grunted in response, snatching up a pile of clean bandages to press to Madan’s stomach.

“Thank you, Bella.” Ariadne nodded to the door. “Please make sure the mage is directed here as soon as possible.”

“Of course.” The Rusan woman curtsied. “Let me know however else I can help.”

The maid disappeared through the door, and Ariadne stepped closer. She took a towel and dipped it into the warm water before circling around Azriel and dabbing at Madan’s face. Her husband took another towel and began cleaning his brother’s uninjured hand.

They worked in a silent tandem. She moved down, clearing up the mess from Madan’s cheeks and neck and chest. Azriel moved up his arm, then began again at his bare feet. He pushed the torn trousers out of the way, and when he touched the twisted leg, Madan groaned.

The response, even in pain, was better than nothing.

“How are you faring?” Ariadne asked quietly, glancing up at him. She knew the answer.

Azriel did not say anything for a long moment. His brows furrowed, and he continued revealing the bruises and scars beneath the grime. With time and rich Caersan blood, they would heal and fade.

“He told me to leave him,” he said after a time. “Again. He told me to leave him when Ehrun used him to make me…”

“Make you get me,” Ariadne finished for him.

He nodded, still not looking at her. “He’s my only family left.”

Her heart sank. “He will live.”

“And I’ll continue putting you both in danger.” He shook his head and turned away to hide his face. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Ariadne stared at a particularly large bruise on Madan’s sternum. Then she turned her gaze to Azriel, reached across the distance between them, and took his hand.

Azriel froze. He stared at their hands and dragged his eyes to her. His brows pinched together.

“I believe you.”

His lips parted as he searched her face. “You do?”

She nodded, a grim smile forming. “I would do the same for Emillie.”

“I wouldn’t have left her there, either,” he said quickly, the panic returning to his gaze. He searched her face for something—anything—that told him she would believe him. Her heart cracked at the sincerity. “If Ehrun had told me to take her instead, I mean.”

“I know.”

The door swung wide. A young Rusan girl, gasping for breath, reeled to a halt. She bent over her knees and let her head hang. “My Lord—my Lady—”

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