Page 65 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Ariadne, however, hadn’t had enough. She pulled back her hand and let it fly. The sound of her palm across his cheek cracked through the night. His head jerked to the side, and when he faced her again, it was with deadpan annoyance.

Face twisting with fury, Ariadne growled in frustration and slapped her hands against his chest. “How dare you!”

“Are you trying to hurt me?”

“Yes!” She kicked his shin and winced in pain.

“You’ll never hurt someone like me by hitting like that.” Azriel held out his hands to block her onslaught until she slowed. He took her hand, loose enough for her to pull away if she chose, and rolled her fingers into fists. Tapping the first couple of knuckles, he continued, “Hit with this part of your hand or you’ll break it.”

Holding her fists aloft, Ariadne stared at him for a long moment, rage still simmering in her eyes. Azriel’s shoulders slumped. Teaching a Caersan woman to defend herself was useless. Not when she had someone like the General to look forward to marrying.

Then her fist collided with his temple. He stumbled to the side, the sheer strength of the impact taking him by surprise. Behind him, Madan barked a laugh. He grumbled over his shoulder, then looked back at the Caersan before him.

“Well done.”

A light frown formed between her brows. “Your face is bleeding.”

Azriel ran his fingers over his cheek and, indeed, they came away crimson. “It’ll heal.”

She sobered a bit, her fingers loosening and hands falling to her side. “How long?”

He went still. “What do you mean?”

“How long does it take you to heal?” She wasn’t looking at his face. Her gaze lingered on the slope of his shoulder—his back. The rage dispersed as fast as it’d sprung to the surface, and concern lay in its place.

His heart cracked. “It’ll be gone by morning, Miss Harlow.”

But a Caersan’s face would heal within the hour. The flesh stitched together quickly and without scarring; it was as though the damage had never been there. Again and again, he cursed the magickless fae who’d sired him. Even a drop of healing magic could make up for his missing vampire blood.

“Will it scar?”

“Maybe.”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t.” Azriel shook his head and stepped back. “Don’t apologize. Ever.”

He’d wear the scar like a badge of honor. There would come a night, sooner rather than later, when she’d marry the General. After, she’d leave him behind, and in her absence, he could look in the mirror to remember.

Remember that he deserved every second of his torment.

Chapter 14

The doors of the Harlow manor opened before Loren reached the top of the entry steps. Warm, golden light swept across the stones and, upon his entrance, the butler took the crimson cloak from his shoulders while a maid held out a crystal glass of whiskey. Home. This was what home looked and felt like, and one day, the massive building and its surrounding grounds would be his. The Harlow Estate would shift to become the Gard Estate when he took his place as the leader of all Valenul vampires.

What came next from the butler, however, was not picturesque.

“Good evening, my Lord General,” the Rusan man said with a bow. “I regret to inform you that the elder Miss Harlow is not well and has requested your patience as she readies for the evening.”

Loren’s heart skipped a beat, and he gripped the glass in his hand a bit harder than necessary. For a Caersan vampire to feel ill, they would need to be on the brink of death. It was only the lack of panic in the household which told him she could not be so poorly. That only left one possibility, however, that could cause her to hide away. If anyone had laid a hand on her, he would have their head. As for the guards meant to be watching over her—he would skin them both alive for their incompetence.

“What do you mean she is unwell?” Loren turned his attention up the stairs where Markus appeared at the landing above. He bowed quickly and stepped closer. “My Lord, how is she?”

Markus sighed, motioning for Loren to ascend the steps. At the top, the Princeps said, “She is not answering at the present, and Emillie refuses to speak of what happened.”

“Where did they go?”

“Into town,” Markus said. “I was with the Council and unable to attend.”

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