Page 24 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Em,” Ariadne said, taking her hand and giving it that familiar squeeze, “do you ever get that light feeling in your stomach when you are around someone? Like when you think there is an extra step at the top of the stairs?”

Sephone, then Hyacinth and Revelie, jumped into her mind. Her stomach twisted pleasantly. “Yes.”

A small curve pulled Ariadne’s lips as she glanced at Camilla. The look of mischief passed between them was one Emillie had not seen in quite some time. Not since the dhemons. The familiarity of it put Emillie at ease.

“And when you get that feeling,” Ariadne continued, “is it when you think of a man or a woman?”

Heat rose to Emillie’s cheeks. The Society, though not cruel to those who preferred Caersan of their own sex, did not support it. Often those who had such attractions were married off to someone of the opposite sex, then left to their own devices within that marriage. Some hid their affections behind closed doors. Others, like Camilla, were not shy about it. Could she ever be so brave?

“Women,” she admitted after a long moment. “It is when I think of women.”

“Well, then.” Camilla picked up her teacup and raised it in a salute. “There is not much to discuss, is there?”

Emillie chewed her lip. “You are so carefree about it. I could never—“

“Wrong!” Camilla smacked her lips and set the tea down. “I appear carefree because I refuse to let those mulish bastards on the Council dictate my life. My father tried for years, and he can continue to try as much as he likes, but I shall not change.”

“You are braver than I.”

Camilla clicked her tongue. “Then go at your own pace, but do not let them tell you what you can and cannot do.”

Them. The Council. The Caersan vampires who controlled everything about their lives, from how they dressed to how they portrayed themselves to how they submitted in defeat. And her father, the Princeps, led them all. Fantastic.

“What did your parents do when you told them?” Ariadne asked as though sensing Emillie’s failing courage.

“Oh, Father was furious.” Camilla sipped casually and popped a small bite of cucumber-laden bread in her mouth. She chewed pensively. “Mother did not mind, though she admitted in private to being worried for me.”

Ariadne glanced at Emillie before asking, “Did your father do anything to you?”

“Gods, no!” Camilla’s eyes widened as she looked between them. “Do you believe yours would?”

Emillie had no idea. Her father had the temper of a mad bull when provoked, and anything that did not go as planned could be the cause. She had seen him lift a hand to a servant who accidentally spilled a drink on him, threaten another Caersan’s life for speaking out against him, and use a crop too brutally on his horse. Though he had never said anything negative about Camilla, she knew he did not approve of her provocative lifestyle and only tolerated her due to their long-time friendship.

“He is not known for his subtlety,” Ariadne admitted when words failed Emillie. She would know; she had been on the receiving end of his anger before.

Camilla huffed indignantly and shook her head. “Well, then, fuck him.”

Emillie’s sharp inhale made her friend smirk. “Camilla–”

“If he cannot stomach his daughter as she is,” the Caersan said, “then perhaps he should not be a father.”

Ariadne laughed, the sound at once startling and beautiful. “At least with you being gay, he does not have to worry about premarital pregnancy.”

A grin curled Camilla’s mouth again. “Good thing he never had a son, then.”

Camilla’s outgoing, fun-loving, and passionate personality helped reawaken the Caersan Ariadne had once been. The liveliness thrummed through her veins as she and Emillie mounted their horses and made their way back down the long, willow-lined drive with Azriel at their backs.

She had not missed the number of times he looked at her during his introduction to Camilla as though searching for permission. The unspoken desire to know if what he did would be considered correct by her confused her. Then again, he did not know the ins and outs of the Caersan Society, and with her being the elder Harlow sister, it made sense he would look to her for guidance. At least, that is what she told herself.

So Ariadne ignored how often she caught Azriel looking her way as they returned home. She stamped down the rush she felt from his unwavering attention, reminding herself of her intention to ingratiate herself with Loren. The Season had just begun, and if she could settle down with General Gard, she would be more than satisfied. To entertain wild fantasies about a guard…

“Did you enjoy your tea, Mister Tenebra?” Emillie asked, breaking the silence.

Azriel grunted in response, then seemed to remember his manners and said, “Yes, thank you.”

Emillie glanced at Ariadne before continuing, “Ride closer. It is strange to have you so far away.”

As he edged nearer, Ariadne gripped her reins tighter. Did he have to loom over them so much? With Madan, things were simple. He did not tower above them like a wraith.

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