Page 45 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Two…

Pulling in a final breath, she looked up at her father and the General. Loren did not so much as glance in her direction, and a realization hit her like a horse’s hoof to the chest.

One…

Ariadne picked up her spoon with her free hand and slid it into the bowl as she grappled with the thought that now plagued her: Azriel would have cared.

Ordering Azriel Tenebra’s arrest was the highlight of Loren’s week, without a doubt. He could think of nothing sweeter than the incarceration of the Harlow family’s bastard watchdog. From the way he interjected himself at the worst of times to how he watched Ariadne with too close an eye, the gods damned guard was nothing but a nuisance.

And if that was not good enough, Loren would be in charge of doling out the punishment. What an absolute dream.

The evening following the arrest, he met Markus outside the Laeton prison. While dropping the Harlows off at their estate, he had arranged the meeting in order to discuss the appropriate manner of discipline.

“Good evening, Princeps,” Loren said with a bow, then extended his arm.

Markus took it with a nod. “General. Shall we see if time in the brig has done its job?”

Mouth curling, Loren nodded. He would not let Azriel get away with his actions so easily but played along nonetheless. Markus did not need to know his plans just yet. Not while he still hoped to regain his guard so soon.

“Does this mean you wish for him to return to your estate?” Loren stepped to the front door of the prison, and the soldier standing guard bowed before opening it for them. “Or would you prefer I find you a suitable replacement?”

“Ah, that will not be necessary.”

“May I ask why?” Loren schooled his face into neutrality though the disappointment dripped from his words.

Markus sighed as they made their way through the reception room to the first set of locked doors. Another soldier stepped forward, a key ring in hand. With a few clangs from the tumblers, the door swung open.

“You must understand,” the Princeps said once out of earshot of the soldiers, “the precarious position it would put me in to exchange guards so readily.”

Loren raised a brow. “I am certain I do not know what you mean.”

Pausing outside an empty cell meant to contain low-level criminals for a day, Markus crossed his arms. “You know and understand to some extent what my daughter’s condition entails.”

Condition. As though Ariadne were incurably ill. While there was a chance some professionals would state her to be such, Loren did not believe it. She had been a mess upon her return from the mountains, but the strides she had made over the last year were admirable. She partook in dinners again, and the balls were livelier with her presence.

But it was not Ariadne’s mental fortitude which Markus addressed. Loren knew precisely what he meant. The pains she had suffered at the hands of the beastly dhemons were unmentionable.

“Of course, my Lord,” Loren inclined his head. “But what does that have to do with this simple guard?”

“You are well aware of the lengths I have gone to conceal the details of her disappearance last winter.” Markus shook his head as though the entire ordeal had been an annoyance at best. “Do you know why I find it necessary to do so?”

Loren gestured for him to continue.

“The war against the dhemons has been plaguing my family for centuries.” Now a deep frown formed on the Princep’s brow, and he did not look at Loren directly. “I have worked hard to minimize the impact of my personal history on legislature and militaristic strategies.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loren cocked his head. “Your personal history?”

Markus raised a hand to silence him. “What I am about to tell you has been stripped from the history books detailing the lineages of the Society. There is only one Caersan man still alive with ties to my past, and he is well on his way into the next world. Do you swear, as your own father swore, to never speak of this information again?”

Now he had Loren’s attention. There were few secrets left in the Society, what with the loud-mouth lords and ladies who made it their business to spread gossip and rumors. To be privy to a final scrap of hidden knowledge would be one of Loren’s greatest achievements.

“My Lord Princeps, I swear by my life blood to hold your secrets as my own from now until my dying night.” Loren placed a fist on his heart and bowed deeply.

“Very good.” Markus nodded, seemingly satisfied with the vow. “As you know, I married my wife, Jezebel, a little over a century ago. What many will not acknowledge is that I was married once prior.”

This was not what Loren had expected to hear. He blinked hard and refocused without interrupting.

“My first wife, Mariana Caldwell, was murdered by the dhemon you know as the Crowe.” Markus clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. The memory clearly still haunted him, as it should.

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