Page 85 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“You speak of things you do not understand.” Markus’s lips hardly moved.

Madan took another step closer. “I understand more than you could possibly know.”

Recognition flashed in the Princeps’ eyes. His gaze narrowed, studied Azriel a moment, then flicked away as he turned to look at Ariadne. He whispered, “Love?”

The Caersan woman withered under his scrutiny. She looked from her father to Madan, then landed on Azriel. The single nod was all it took.

His heart skipped a beat. She had chosen him in front of everyone.

Markus pivoted back to the murmuring crowd. “This evening has been filled with surprises. We shall postpone the engagement celebration in lieu of continuing the Season as normal. Join me in welcoming our newest Lord Governor of the Eastern Province: Lord Azriel Caldwell.”

Applause erupted from the Caersans. Whether it was an expected practice in moments such as these or due to his display in his fight against Loren, Azriel wasn’t certain. What he was certain of was how drastically his life was about to change.

Chapter 19

The drawing room—the bane of Ariadne’s existence for the last fortnight—became a haven from the dancing, music, and gossip in the ballroom on the lower floor. Following her father’s acceptance of Azriel’s position as the next Lord Governor of the Eastern Province, what had been intended to be an engagement celebration turned into a rumor mill. Her father implored the guests to enjoy the party despite the change of plans. After all, no sense in letting the food and labor procured for the evening go to waste.

Servants moved across the ballroom to clean up the blood from the duel. The shallow, crimson puddles glistened in the brilliant light of the chandeliers, looking horribly like that first night of the Season. Just as easily as the opening ball, the carnage disappeared. Only gleaming pine wood remained.

As the music picked up and some Caersan swept onto the cleaned dance floor, her father folded the Will and tucked it neatly into the envelope from whence it came. He looked from the General to the newest Lord Governor in contemplation. Ariadne never considered herself an expert on her father. The one thing she knew, however, was how to avoid his wrath.

When his critical amber eyes landed on her, she sucked in a breath and cast her gaze to a spot on the floor somewhere in the distance so she could still see what happened around her. “Father, I—”

“You and I will speak soon.” The flat, matter-of-fact tone made her skin crawl. Then he addressed the men before him, “Meet me in my office—all three of you. Madan, I trust you will keep the two of them from destroying my home.”

“My Lord.” Madan bowed and motioned for Loren and Azriel to follow him out.

Ariadne could not help looking up at the General as he passed, his nose no longer dripping but still purple from breaking. She opened her mouth to speak, but Loren avoided her searching gaze. He motioned for several officers to follow him before disappearing into the gawking crowd on his way to the study.

Azriel, however, paused to look her over closely. A bruise spread out from his temple where Loren had hit him, and he kept one hand pressed to the shallow stab wound in his gut. She swallowed hard and, again, opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t.” He shook his head, then bowed, kissed her fingers, and whispered, “I’m sorry for keeping secrets.”

Then he, too, disappeared. The guests parted for him as much as they had Loren. Some stared in awe, while others sneered and huffed before turning to a companion and whispering. Whatever they said did not phase the guard-turned-lord, and Azriel moved through with grace.

As soon as her father went to collect the members of the High Council, Caersan women stepped forward. Ariadne gaped at them as one question after another pelted in her direction.

“What happened?”

“Did you know he was the heir?”

“But what about the General?”

“Did he force you?”

“What did you do?”

No one asked if she was okay.

Not for the first time, Emillie yanked her away from the gaggle. Camilla pushed to the front, cursing them all and demanding they leave. Behind her, Revelie spread her arms wide to keep the women from moving closer.

“Come,” Emillie whispered to her and motioned for Camilla and Revelie to follow.

Together, the four of them left the ballroom behind and cloistered inside the drawing room, where a maid brought a tray of herbal tea. Ariadne accepted the cup handed to her and held it in her palm so the heat of the porcelain warmed her skin. Without a sound, she lowered herself into the seat closest to the fire and stared into the flames.

Her friends murmured amongst themselves at first. She did not mind. Too much had happened over the last hour to entertain their questions just yet.

In fact, Ariadne was not certain she would be able to answer any of the questions herself. No, she had not had any inclination that Azriel was the heir of the Caldwell Estate—when he had told her he was leaving, she assumed he meant transferring to another personal guard position. Never in her wildest dreams did she believe he would ever be accepted into the Society.

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