Page 73 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

It did not.

In fact, the longer she remained outside on her own, the more prominent her self-imposed ostracism became. Emillie had hardly spoken to her over the week after seeing through her lies. Foolish of Ariadne to think she could keep anything from her sister. Now she had pushed away the one constant of her life. The one person she had been able to count on being there for her.

In less than a month, Ariadne would be taken from her home by a man she did not love and imprisoned by her new title. It was not unlike what happened to her a year ago. Only this time, rather than a stranger dragging her from her bedroom, it was a known villain with whom she would be stuck for the rest of her life.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as Astra galloped across the dark field. Whether it was from the ache in her chest or the wind in her face, Ariadne did not know. Nor did she care.

The rhythm of a second set of hooves grew louder, and she reined in her mare so she could turn to the newcomer. Azriel slowed to a halt beside her.

“Good evening, Miss Harlow.”

She wiped the tears from her face, and his eyes narrowed. “Good evening, Azriel.”

He stilled in the saddle and scanned her face as though searching for some sort of injury to her head. “Miss Harlow, please—”

“No.” Ariadne shook her head. “I will call you whatever name I decide.”

He weighed her words. “As you wish, Miss—”

“As should you.” She locked her gaze with his as he frowned. He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off for the third time, “I do not consider it inappropriate. Please. I know what you have been doing. Give me this before I must leave.”

Azriel moved his stallion close enough to brush knees with her without taking his eyes from her face. She tightened her grip on the reins and swallowed hard. He had already done so much for her—the least she could do was remove the barrier of rank between them.

“Well, then,” he said, voice a quiet rumble, “Ariadne.”

Her name on his lips stroked through her like a warm caress. She closed her eyes to relish the sound. With a hum of satisfaction, she looked at him again and smiled. “Thank you.”

“You being out here has reminded me of something,” he said, nudging his stallion forward so his thigh rubbed the length of her own.

Ariadne’s mind went blank for a moment as the pleasant sensation of his touch warred with dark memories. She took two deep breaths before asking, “And what is that?”

“We never determined who would win in a race.”

Their argument over what made a good rider slid back into her mind. She had worked so hard to hide how much she liked him at that point—even from herself. Ridiculous, really, considering where she was now.

“You are correct,” she said, then pointed to the manor. “First back to the front doors?”

“Alright.” Azriel grinned. “From here?”

“Yes.”

“There are fences between us and the end goal.” His eyes sparkled mischievously in the moonlight.

“Again, Azriel,” Ariadne said with a wink, “you are correct.”

His grin broadened, and he gathered his reins in a fist. “On three, then… Ariadne.”

A flutter kicked through her stomach, and she nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They launched forward in unison, their horses stretching their legs into a gallop. Within the first few beats, Azriel pulled ahead. The stallion, with his longer limbs, ate up the distance between them and the first fence surrounding the field.

Ariadne laughed again as Astra hurdled over the first barrier, the rush through her gut sending those butterflies into the ether. Halfway through the second field, she caught up with the half-fae and his steed.

The stallion flagged. Larger though he was, it meant he had more weight to carry—plus the huge guard on his back. In comparison, Astra’s lithe build and Ariadne’s slender body made for better aerodynamics.

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