Page 74 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

By the time they launched over the second fence, she and Astra were in the lead by a head. She looked back at Azriel, who let out a breathy chuckle. No doubt she looked ridiculous with the loose strands of hair flying in front of her face.

“Come now, Azriel!” She laughed. “You can do better than that!”

The final fence had Astra a full body length ahead, so when they shot around the corner to the front drive, winning the race, Ariadne threw her hands up in victory. She turned in her saddle to watch Azriel slow behind her, face alight with more excitement than she had ever seen. His peridot eyes gleamed with life, and he trotted up beside her.

“I told you,” she said, “I would win.”

“But was it due to your love for riding?” He smirked. “Or your skill?”

Ariadne scoffed and went to slap his arm playfully.

“Well done,” he said and stopped her hand before it could land its blow, kissing her knuckles without taking his gaze from hers. “You win.”

Warmth flushed across her cheeks. She liked the feeling of his lips on her skin, and the very thought sent heat rushing to her core.

Something in her periphery moved, and Ariadne froze. She pulled her hand back and turned to find Loren standing at the front doors, his face drawn with fury.

In an instant, her smile disappeared. All sense of victorious elation vanished, replaced by dread. She did not dare look at Azriel as Loren strode forward, striking down the guard with his glare.

“Miss Harlow,” Loren said and held out a hand. With the other, he gripped her reins to hold Astra in place.

Ariadne swallowed hard, accepted his hand, and dismounted so she could curtsy. “General Gard.”

“I will take it from here, Mister Tenebra.” Loren’s voice, cold and accusatory, cut like daggers.

Finally, she looked from her fiancé to her guard. The former’s quiet anger rippled through the night. The latter’s quick switch from open and excitable to cool subordination made her stomach knot.

“Yes, sir.” Azriel nodded once to them, then nudged his stallion into a trot, leaving her alone with the General.

Loren’s hands shook at the effort of holding back his rage. The moment the pair had rounded the corner to the front drive, he could not ignore the way they looked at each other. Ariadne’s face, flushed and bright, was beautiful as she laughed—happier than he had ever seen her before. Behind her, Azriel watched her move with longing.

Where Loren had his suspicions before, the sudden sobriety from their ignorant bliss underscored what he knew. It was not just Azriel who searched for Ariadne. She, too, found enjoyment with him.

And if that did not infuriate him beyond measure…

As Azriel rode away, Loren turned back to Ariadne and brought her fingers to his lips. “Miss Harlow, even flushed from victory, you are stunning.”

“You are too kind, General,” she said quietly, far more meek than she had been a moment before when she had teased the bastard guard.

A stablehand ran around the corner, likely sent by Azriel to collect Ariadne’s mare, and he tossed the reins into the Rusan’s hands. The servant bowed, then walked away in silence. At least some of the men around here had the common decency to do their job properly. When he took over the estate, centuries down the road, he would rid the place of anyone who believed themselves equal to the Caersan.

When they were once again alone, Loren turned to his fiancée. “You have been spending time with Tenebra?”

Ariadne chewed her lip. “Yes, General.”

“Why?”

Her eyes widened, and she looked toward the front door as though expecting—perhaps hoping—someone would join them. “I do not ask him. It is his job. When I am out on the grounds, he has been appointed to look after me.”

“Correct.” Loren ground his teeth. “He is there to look after you—not play with you.”

After all, Ariadne was his. His fiancée. His future wife. His plaything. He would not have another man, particularly not a low-born bastard, thinking he could touch what was rightfully Loren’s. The half-breed had grown bold over the weeks, and it seemed time to teach the fucker another lesson since the last one did not take.

Ariadne, however, gaped at him. “He was not… We were not playing! It was a race. We tried… I asked him… I wanted—”

“Do you like him?”

Now she stared in utter shock, her face paling. Good. Let her know she has been caught. It was better she learned her place now.

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