Page 23 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Camilla turned back to them, her eyes glittering with mischief as she guided them away. In an instant, Emillie’s thoughts turned from the curiosity of Azriel’s soothing presence to the purpose of their visit. Her stomach knotted.

They did not speak on their way up the stairs and down the hall to the large drawing room. The powder blue damask walls and cream accents matched much of what had been in fashion during the manor’s construction centuries before and therefore appeared very similar to the Harlow manor. They sat on two ivory couches assembled near the fireplace. Emillie sat beside Ariadne, with Camilla seated opposite and a low table between them.

“How have the two of you fared since the Vertium ball?” Camilla adjusted the skirt of her dress, glancing at the open doors nearby.

Did she expect Azriel to come in and sweep her off her feet? Emillie would not put it past her friend for thinking so, or at the very least, hoping.

“It was difficult at first,” Emillie admitted, then bit her lip and looked to Ariadne, who did not meet either of their eyes. “And yourself?”

“It was absolutely frightening,” Camilla said, though she did not sound perturbed. “I have never seen a beast so fierce before. How are you coping, Ari?”

Ariadne blinked twice rapidly as though pulling herself from her thoughts and lifted her gaze back to them. “Perhaps everyone now understands the threat they pose to the Society. I am, oddly enough, doing better than I expected.”

Emillie did not believe it for a second. The ghost which haunted their manor for the nights following the attack resembled her sister with very little of her casual demeanor attached. Even the uncertainty she had shown in Laeton’s market crowds had been alarming.

Luckily, Camilla did not seem to accept the reassurance, either. She leaned forward to study Ariadne’s face and said, “You are allowed to be upset—fearful, even.”

A pained smile slunk into place as Ariadne shook her head. “It was distressing, but it is done. We are safe, which cannot be said for those who fell that night. Let us be thankful for that.”

“Safe this time, yes,” Emillie said and laid a light hand on Ariadne’s knee, “but not free from those nightmares.”

Something dark and angry flashed through her sister’s eyes. “You know nothing of nightmares.”

Emillie pulled back and turned to Camilla for help. The Caersan merely sighed and shrugged before saying, “You are right. We do not.”

Ariadne rubbed her brow, closing her eyes briefly. “I am sorry.”

“Do not be, doll.” Camilla offered a sweet smile. “We understand.”

At least as much as Ariadne allowed them to understand, which, admittedly, was not a lot.

Interrupting her thoughts, three servants swept in, each laden with a different tray. The first set was a silver tower filled with honey, spiced, and plum cakes. Beside it sat three teacups, each filled before them with steaming lavender tea. The last, another tower, was piled with small cuts of bread layered with different toppings such as butter and herbs, roasted tomatoes, tapenade, and cucumber with dill.

“Delightful!” Camilla clapped her hands. “Thank you, Sephone.”

“As always, Miss Dodd.” Sephone, a gorgeous brunette Rusan with dark amber eyes, bobbed a curtsy. Her dress, cut low to reveal her ample cleavage, hugged her curves in all the right places.

Emillie stared. The maid was beautiful, and the sudden curiosity to know what Sephone’s lips felt like brought a flush to her cheeks. Sephone, noticing her attention, bit her lip to keep from smiling. The simple motion sent a ripple of butterflies through Emillie, who shifted in her seat and quickly looked away.

But not quickly enough. As Sephone retreated from the drawing room, her wide hips swaying a little more than when she entered, Emillie found Camilla grinning at her like a cat cornering a mouse.

“Dearest Emillie,” she crooned, plucking up a slice of honey cake, “what is it you wished to speak about during your visit?”

All thoughts escaped her. For a long moment, her mind reeled in search of something–anything–to say.

Ariadne, teacup to her lips, paused with wide eyes.

“I was hoping,” Emillie said, an aching hollowness replacing the butterflies, “you could tell me how you knew you were attracted to women?”

The feline smirk returned. “Well… Ariadne, how did you know you were attracted to men?”

Ariadne choked on her tea. “I have no idea. I just… am.”

“Well,” Camilla said with finality, “there you have it, doll.”

Emillie looked between them helplessly. “That explained nothing.”

Chewing her cake, Camilla held her arms wide as though to gesture to the world itself. She swallowed, dropped her hands, and said, “I am uncertain what you mean. Attraction is just that with no other explanation needed.”

---