Page 47 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Your impudence,” Markus said, “and attempt to smear General Gard’s name in public was witnessed by far too many Caersans to let go so lightly. You are to be made an example of—publicly. As it was the General you insulted, it will be the General who decides your final sentence.”

Now it was Loren’s turn to smirk as Azriel’s face returned to neutral. A muscle ticked in the guard’s jaw as he turned his attention to him. Loren reveled in it for a moment before speaking.

“Fifty lashes three nights from now.” He turned to Markus. “I believe a few extra nights in a cell will do him some good.”

The Princeps considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Very good. Fifty lashes in three nights. The flogging post outside will be sufficient.”

When they both looked at Azriel again, he inclined his head. “I will see you in three nights, then.”

Chapter 10

Returning to the Court House for Azriel’s discipline sat low on Ariadne’s list of priorities. Her father refused to tell her what punishment they decided on. That he was forced to remain in the prison for three more nights told her what came next would not be pleasant.

“Mister Tenebra’s outburst,” her father explained when she asked to stay home for the third time, “was due to your lack of control.”

So being forced to witness whatever came next was as much a punishment for her as it was for him. At least it felt that way. She should have guessed, really, based on the way her father avoided speaking to her over the last few days. Whenever he did deem her worthy of his attention, it was to discuss the next ball and suitors with whom to dance—with the General at the top of the list.

The first time Ariadne attended a prisoner’s sentence in public, she was thirty years old. She watched the prisoner—a young Rusan man—branded on his face as a thief and could not stomach it. She learned later he had stolen coins to feed his young wife and child. That man she did not know. Now the one she would witness being harmed was someone with whom she had become familiar.

By the time they reached the courtyard outside the prison, a crowd of Caersans and Rusans alike had gathered. News spread like wildfire in Laeton, and everyone available would arrive to watch.

So much for being civilized.

Ariadne stood beside Emillie and their father toward the front of the throng. Madan took up his place behind them, the ever-dutiful guard placing himself between the crowd and his charges. Yet no matter how much he tried to be at ease, Ariadne sensed his tension.

A hush fell over the onlookers as Loren stepped out of the prison and mounted the steps to the raised platform before them. Stocks, a pillory, hang-man’s noose, and a flogging pole loomed behind him. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear what would happen to the guard who spoke down to their General.

“As many of you know,” Loren said, his voice imperious, “a personal guard under my command defied his superiors.”

Caersans and Rusans alike murmured around them, curious about the vague statement. Their voices rose as Azriel stepped out, shackles around his wrists and ankles clanking. He stood tall despite the hisses of disapproval, staring out above the heads of the crowd and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Azriel Tenebra,” Loren explained, “will continue his role as personal guard to the Harlow family after today’s lesson in humility, but his libelous claims against me, your humble General, will not be forgotten.”

Several nearby Caersans leaned in to ask her father why he would continue to employ such an insolent guard. To her surprise, her father did not entertain any of the questions and merely gestured for them to watch and listen.

“Moreso, however,” the General continued, “his indirect threat to my life by attempting to intimidate me will be addressed in tonight’s punishment.”

Ariadne frowned. Behind her, Madan went very still. Even her father narrowed his eyes. This must not be something he had discussed with Loren. Azriel never threatened Loren—why would he claim such a thing?

“My intent is to impress upon Mister Tenebra,” Loren said, “and every guard and soldier under my command the importance of maintaining order and following the instructions of authoritative officers.”

“Father,” Ariadne whispered, unable to look away from what unfolded on the stage, “he did no such thing. You know this.”

Her father shook his head once. “It is not my place to decide how the General perceived Mister Tenebra’s insubordination. We discussed the appropriate level of discipline.”

Despite his confident words, her father did not appear convinced Loren would adhere to their plan. He watched the General with a tense jaw and sharp eyes. Something was not right.

“To make my statement,” Loren said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd for emphasis, “Mister Tenebra will receive two hundred lashes.”

The world dropped out from under Ariadne as a unified cry rose up from the crowd around her. Both the Caersan and Rusan vampires were hungry to watch the blood spill, no matter if the crime had been inflated. None of them cared. None of them knew what really happened.

“Father,” she choked out, though she did not dare grab his arm in public again. The world spun. “Do not let him do this.”

Emillie turned to them. “Two hundred lashes…that could kill him.”

When their father did not respond, his face stark white and lips thin, Ariadne turned to Madan. The guard she had come to love like a brother stared up at the stage, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He knew as well as she that Azriel did not deserve such severe punishment. Neither of them could act.

“Please stop him,” Ariadne said, turning back to her father.

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