Page 19 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Heat prickled his skin. “Lead the way.”

The Caersan women started down the drive, and he followed a few paces behind. He twisted in his saddle to look back at the manor, a massive stone building at the top of a hill to overlook the grounds. Its lawns and gardens, complete with a small lake and endless walking paths, were immaculate. The Rusan groundskeepers kept everything trim and tidy, working throughout the daylight hours to maintain its splendor.

It would be a shame to one day leave its finery. Azriel knew he couldn’t stay beyond the Season. The rules of the Society and the suffocating presence of the Caersan aside, every moment spent in Ariadne’s presence dug him a deeper grave. Watching her get swept away by the man of her dreams would be more difficult than putting a rope around his own neck.

Though, gods, did a rope like that burn.

Azriel’s hand drifted to his throat to feel the smooth, almost imperceptible scar that ringed it. To imagine he wouldn’t have been able to deflect that bolt aimed at Ariadne’s heart if Madan hadn’t cut him down soon enough.

They passed the guard house and gates and turned down the lane leading to the market of Laeton. The road, darker than the well-lit drive, opened overhead as it widened to let in the moonlight. Caersan vampires didn’t require much illumination for their eyes to adjust and improve their vision. Azriel’s, however, did not regulate the darkness as well, and so he strained to make out the shadows around them.

Constant vigilance, the first rule of guarding someone. Be prepared for the unpredictable. For Azriel, that meant determining whether each movement was a threat, a passerby, or merely a swaying tree branch. It made his head hurt. He depended on his keen sense of smell to make out potential threats.

“You are rather quiet,” Ariadne observed, drawing his attention again. “For being family, you and Madan are quite different.”

Emillie shot her a warning look. “Ari, you and I are like night and day.”

Ariadne waved her off. “I am merely inviting him to speak. No need to be so sullen all the time, Mister Tenebra.”

Azriel shifted in his seat and studied her for a moment. “Madame Ives is a Caersan of the Society, is she not?”

“She is.”

“Yet she owns her own business?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin a bit at that, appearing more regal and confident than he’d yet seen her. “And she is a dear friend.”

Azriel cocked a brow. “Do you employ all your friends?”

“Mister Tenebra,” Emillie cut in as Ariadne gaped at him imperiously, “would you care to tell us about yourself? I fear we know very little about you, and it would put us both more at ease.”

A beat of silence. Talking about himself never sat high on his priority list. “What would you like to know?”

“I have been made aware your father is not Caersan,” Emillie said, once again shooting her sister a sharp look. “From where does he hail? Did you know him well?”

Loaded questions. “He’s fae. I spent most of my life with him, and when Madan’s parents died, he joined us.”

“You told me you grew up in Asterbury,” Ariadne said, eyeing him suspiciously. “The high fae live in the west.”

Azriel frowned. “My mother was born in Eastwood Province. My father met her there and settled in Asterbury to remain close.”

“And your mother’s name?”

“Maribel Tenebra.”

“You took your mother’s surname?”

“Many fae don’t have family names,” he explained, cool dread curling through him. They were prying, and he didn’t care for it. The complexities of his family history made him stand out from the other vampires too much. “If I might ask, ladies, why do you want to know this?”

Emillie pursed her lips in thought. “Our father does not tell us much.”

Odd, though not uncommon, for Caersan men to keep the women in the dark. Their customs were old, outdated, and relied heavily on traditions that had once kept them safe. When the curse was placed on the vampires thousands of years ago, the women were stripped of the one thing that kept the playing field even: their magic. The men once again became stronger and capable of overpowering who they believed to be the weaker sex. As the Caersan men rose above the rest, the Caersan women had no choice but to adapt or be disowned.

There was a reason mages and fae often believed themselves greater than the vampires. Their societies were not nearly as strict.

“You now know everything there is to know about me,” Azriel said, twisting the reins in his hands. “Half fae. Half Caersan. Full guard.”

“Do you have any magic?” Ariadne’s eyes flickered to the rounded points of his ears. “It is not often we see high fae magic.”

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