Page 87 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Beside her, Revelie smiled grimly. “We need men like him in power to make any true changes in the Society.”

“With you by his side,” Emillie added with a squeeze of Ariadne’s hand, “big changes could happen.”

“By his side?”

“As his wife.” Now her sister frowned and glanced at their friends across from them. “Will you not marry him?”

Ariadne scoffed. “The better question is if he will want to marry me after all of this.”

She looked down into the tea in her hand. The translucent brown liquid reflected the candles overhead, turning and flickering on the surface. She focused on the gentle, shallow slosh as she shifted the cup from one hand to the other in a desperate attempt to distract her mind from the looming rejection.

A loud, boisterous laugh drew her attention back up. Camilla shook her head. “Are you blind?”

With a confirming nod, Revelie added, “I did not have the best of views from where I stood, but from what I saw, he could not stop looking at you.”

“They are right,” Emillie said quietly. “Every chance he got, he looked at you.”

Ariadne did not remember this. Her mind was so abuzz with concern for what he had gone through. The blood on his stomach and dripping from his fist. It all made her head rush and unable to focus.

“Still,” Ariadne said, trying to ignore the way her heart picked up its pace at the thought of him focused on her, “any other prospect of marriage would be ruined after this.”

Emillie shrugged. “That is what you wanted for some time.”

True. But that was before Azriel. She had never even considered the possibility of her heart yearning for another man after Darien and this? This was something else. Something more.

She delighted in and leapt at the opportunity to see her late fiancé, no matter the circumstances. It could have been a ball or a walk through the park or dinner with the family. All of it sent her heart racing and mind whirling. Now she understood it was all superficial. Naught but surface-level lust and puppy love.

With Azriel, everything felt deeper. It was a quiet, almost ancient sensation that drew her attention. His subtle glances and light touches sent her spiraling in a way Darien never could. Azriel’s scent drifted through her dreams each day. His sharp, peridot eyes tracked her each night. He was a hunter, and she was his prey, too eager to be found. Every fiber of her being begged for his attention.

“But you love him,” Revelie said quietly. “Do you not?”

Turning her gaze up to the Caersan, Ariadne chewed her lip. She should feel safe admitting it to her friends and sister. Still, admitting it to herself was difficult. So, as when her father had asked in front of hundreds, she nodded once.

“Well, then.” Camilla sipped her tea and set the cup down a bit harder than necessary. “Since the Lord Governor is now considered Caersan… does that mean your other extremely handsome and gentlemanly guard is as well? Because I am quite interested.”

Emillie and Revelie laughed. Ariadne choked on her tea, then joined in with the merriment. She shook her head at her friend, who winked back and poured another cup of tea.

The door opened behind Ariadne. Music, talking, and laughter spilled in from the corridor. She turned to see several Caersans paused nearby to peek in at the private gathering before Markus, standing in the threshold, leveled an icy stare at his elder daughter.

“I would like to speak with Ariadne alone.” He took a step into the room and clasped his hands behind his back.

The three Caersan women stood, curtsied to the Princeps, then hurried around him to exit the drawing room. Last out, Emillie paused and threw her sister a small smile of encouragement before closing the door behind her. As she did so, Camilla’s sharp warning for others to quit eavesdropping swept by.

Ariadne placed her teacup on its saucer. Her hands shook, and she did not need her father noticing her nerves. He would take advantage of her weakened mental state if he did, just as he had the night of Loren’s proposal.

“Be at ease, Daughter.” He took up the space left behind by Revelie and pierced her with his hawk-like gaze.

“Father, I…” Her voice broke. “I am sorry.”

At first, he said nothing. He did nothing but stare. What observations he made by doing so, Ariadne could not tell. She would have been surprised if he blinked at all.

“I must know the truth of it,” he said finally and nodded to her arm. “Who did that?”

Ariadne swallowed hard. “Please, Father, I did not wish to cause trouble.”

He held up a hand to stop her from continuing. “You have caused more than trouble tonight. Now answer my question.”

She winced and chewed her lip. What were the chances he would believe her? What were the chances he even cared?

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