Page 96 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Correct,” Azriel said and grinned back. “I intend to remain in Laeton for the duration of our betrothal. We shall return to Monsumbra together.”

Theobald nodded once. “Very well, my Lord Governor.”

“I shall be sending my cousin, Madan Caldwell, to tend to business just after the wedding.” Azriel cast his sights around the room and tipped his head in the direction of the vampire. Like Azriel, Madan’s finery looked odd on her ex-guard. Nonetheless, he laughed with another lord, drink in hand, and seemed completely at ease amongst the Caersan as though he had always meant to be with them.

“And he has been made aware of our business?” The Councilman’s mouth tightened.

“My Lord,” Azriel said lightly, “Madan is very much aware and equipped to handle everything per my instructions. I trust him explicitly.”

Another, more terse, nod. “Very well. I shall not keep you from your lovely fiancée any longer. Do enjoy yourself, Lord Governor.”

“And you as well.” Another incline of their heads, and just like that, Azriel’s attention returned wholly to her. He guided her away and blew out a breath. “How’d I do?”

Ariadne gaped at him. Never in all her life had any male vampire of the Society sought her approval even for anything as simple as a conversation amongst Caersans. To ask a woman for reassurance made most believe they appeared weak or incapable.

“You are a natural,” she said after realizing the honesty of his question. “As though you were always destined to be a Caersan.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Another blink of surprise. “Yes, of course.”

“The servants at my manor taught me.” He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. “I haven’t stopped studying speech patterns and customs long enough to get a good day’s sleep.”

“Truly?”

He nodded. “It’s part of why I haven’t visited. I’m sorry.”

“You need not change anything for me.” The words surprised even herself. Ariadne bit her lip, uncertain if they were the right thing to say in the face of his hard work.

He loosed another breath, and tension eased from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Pausing, Azriel snatched two glasses of red wine from a passing servant’s tray. He handed one off to her before starting forward again. She sipped the drink as they walked, the first notes of the louder, more prominent dance music beginning.

Ariadne turned to look back at the dance floor and pulled Azriel to a stop. “Look.”

Madan guided Emillie through the start of the song, his less-practiced movements more prominent in contrast to her sister’s fluidity. He smiled down at her and said something to make her laugh before she swept to another partner in the quadrille. Her lavender dress billowed out in unison with her brown curls as she returned to his arms.

“They look good together.” Azriel tilted his head in observation.

“A pity,” Ariadne said and sipped her wine. “That they cannot be together, I mean.”

Azriel raised a brow. “Can they not?”

She cast him an exasperated look. “Do not play coy. You saw her at the Bistro.”

His laugh boomed louder than she had ever heard him before. The sparkle in his eyes danced as much as their siblings moving about the floor. “Well, Madan’s partner wouldn’t be very pleased, anyhow.”

It took a long moment for the pieces to click together. Azriel’s careful use of the term partner kept Madan’s private life from scrutiny by any eavesdroppers. Despite her time knowing the vampire who had dragged her from that damned keep, she did not, in fact, know anything about him.

The understanding, once settled in her mind, sent a jolt of joy through her. She clutched Azriel’s arm and turned a big smile up to him. “Then they can be the best of friends instead. Who is his partner?”

Azriel subtly moved them away from the Caersans now turning interested gazes their way before speaking. “His name is Whelan.”

She frowned at the name. Foreign—certainly not Caersan or classical vampiric. “Where is he from?”

They continued moving. Lingering too long in one place could be dangerous for his cousin. “Southeast.”

“A mage?”

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