Page 20 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Azriel shook his head. “I fear you’re to be disappointed once more. My father possessed no such gifts.”

“Pity.” Emillie turned to look ahead again.

A pity, indeed. He’d always wished for magic. After his first visit to Algorath as a child, he lamented his sire’s lack of it. That feeling never truly left him.

The homes squeezed closer together as they made their way deeper into Laeton. The estate gardens turned into small strips of land divided by picket fences, then soon, the buildings butted up against one another. As they crested the hill into the city, Lake Cypher sprawled in the distance, reflecting the moon on its surface. The houses turned into apartments stacked above businesses, and more and more vampires roamed the streets.

In the crowds nearest the market, human mages in their bright, colorful clothes made appearances. The high fae with their long, pointed ears cropped up often with the occasional avian amongst them. Still fewer were the lycans, the race of fae cursed to remain in their wolven forms except on full moons as punishment for various crimes. The massive wolves, typically paired with a high fae merchant in servitude to reduce their sentence, cut broad swaths through the vampires and startled horses out of their way.

“Perhaps you could convince one of them to show you magic,” Azriel said with a smirk.

But Ariadne had gone quiet and still in her saddle. She chewed her lip, gripped her reins too hard, and watched the crowds with wide eyes.

Wordlessly, Emillie reached across the distance between them and squeezed her hand once. Ariadne shuddered as she exhaled, looking to her sister with gratitude.

“Are you alright, Miss Harlow?” Azriel knew he didn’t need to ask. She wasn’t alright. A bustling city with all the people and noise could cause someone with half the experiences as her to shut down.

Ariadne looked at him, ghosts and memories swirling behind her wide eyes. It was a punch to the gut. A reminder of his failures.

“I will be,” she said in a light, airy voice.

“How can I assist you?”

For a moment, she just stared at him as though studying his words and adjusting her response. “Stay close.”

Azriel blinked once, his mind going numb at the words. Nothing, he thought she’d say. I am fine, or It will be okay. Anything but vulnerability. Still, she didn’t have to tell him twice. He nodded and gestured for them to continue on, nudging Jasper close enough to bump into both women’s horses.

They pressed through the throng, the horses naturally weaving along the path of least resistance. Many moved out of their way, not wanting to be stepped on or have their goods bumped from their hands. Others took one look at the women, then Azriel, and hurried away. Times like these made him thankful for the way his face settled into a scowl without thought.

He hated it anytime Ariadne glanced at him.

“Ari!” Emillie turned down a less-crowded street lined with fine, high-end shops not financially accessible to most Rusan vampires. “It is over here.”

With a shake of her head, Ariadne followed her sister, and Azriel brought up the rear, frowning at her lack of awareness. That was something that needed addressing. For someone so vigilant in her own home, she became oddly befuddled in public.

Could he blame her? She’d been taken from her own bedroom—the haven in which she should’ve felt safest.

Outside Madame Ives’s, Azriel dismounted and dropped Jasper’s reins. The stallion had yet to wander away in all their years together. He took hold of both Caersan’s horses, however, in case they spooked in crowds, and held a hand out to Emillie first. She took it with a quiet murmur of gratitude. Then he turned to Ariadne, who stared at his hand for a long moment before swinging a leg over the saddle and accepting his brace for the dismount.

The moment their palms touched, Azriel was certain the world exploded. Everything slammed into focus, and the din of the market faded to a low hum. His very skin seemed to alight with flames, bringing his attention to every minute detail, from the way the hairs on his neck stood on end to his raging pulse.

All too soon, Ariadne slid her fingers from his. He sucked in a breath at the frown creasing her brows, and she thanked him.

Had she felt it, too? Impossible.

“Of course, Miss Harlow.” He inclined his head. “Would you like me to accompany you inside, or do you prefer I remain here?”

She chewed her lip a moment before saying, “Come inside, please.”

“As you wish.”

Madame Revelie Ives, Ariadne’s close friend and favorite designer in Laeton, kept her seamstress shop clean and welcoming. Dresses hung displayed from mannequins in front windows lit by carefully placed candles, and bolts of fabric hung from the gold-trimmed walls. Peace lilies and pothos brought life to the otherwise sterile environment.

Entering the shop behind Emillie, with Azriel on her heels after tying off the horses, she felt like an intruder. The looming guard at her back only made things worse. When she looked at him, Azriel seemed at a loss. He crossed, then uncrossed his arms before refolding them over his chest. His dark clothes—black leather trousers and boots and an airy black shirt—made him appear like a shadow come to life.

“What can I do for you, my dears?” Revelie floated from the back room, her brown skin, complete with the vivid blue Caersan veins running up her throat and jaw, perfectly complementing the bright fabric of her dress. Thick, coiled, ebony hair bounced around her angular face, and her round, dark eyes gleamed with delight. “I have missed you.”

The Madame was one of the few Caersan women to run her own shop. She debuted amongst the Society two decades earlier and, after being named the Season’s Golden Rose, decided she wanted nothing to do with the ridiculous customs and rules. Her father, killed in a dhemon raid in Notten Province to the north, left the family estate to Revelie and her mother. While the latter continued living her lavish lifestyle and found another husband, the former took her share of the inheritance and pursued what she loved most: fashion.

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