Page 98 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

For Ariadne, though, he’d endure anything. Nights of scrutiny, duels for her honor, and incessant rumors were nothing in comparison to the very thought of spending a lifetime without her.

More speculative eyes turned their way as Camilla joined them. Beautiful though she was, she paled in comparison to Ariadne, even in her form-fitting gown.

Again and again, he felt out of place. As his fiancée—he’d never get used to using that word for her—chatted with her friend, he stood back and ignored the leering gazes. Too many sneered at him like an imposter. A wolf amongst sheep.

He didn’t blame them. He felt as out of place as they believed him to be.

“Lord Governor.”

Azriel gave a start, dragging himself out of his thoughts to turn to Markus Harlow. Camilla fell silent, and Ariadne turned to her father with an anxious expression. He stepped forward, extended his hand, and loosed a breath of relief when the Princeps accepted.

“My Lord Princeps.” Azriel ignored Camilla’s grin at his change of tone to one of more seriousness. Caersan vampires closest to them grew quiet to inspect their interaction. What better gossip than tension between the man who won the hand of the Golden Rose and her father?

“I admit I am impressed,” Markus said, “by your performance before the Council last night.”

Ariadne’s eyebrows rose, and she shifted closer to Azriel. Her proximity soothed the tension in his muscles.

“You honor me,” Azriel said with an incline of his head.

“It is not often we have untrained newcomers.” Markus surveyed him in a way that said they never had untrained newcomers. Everyone on the Council had been born and raised to take their position. “Your quick decision-making in the face of so little information is not something of which many would be capable. You gained more support than I anticipated.”

Azriel nodded once, something like pride swelling. “Thank you, my Lord.”

It wasn’t his first time synthesizing data to create an actionable plan, though he knew it wasn’t his strongest attribute. Azriel’s strengths came from observing his brother. There was a reason Madan succeeded in rescuing Ariadne when he fell short. There was a reason Azriel struggled to lead, whereas it came to Madan naturally. That’s why his brother led the guards at the Harlow Estate. His mind worked wonders.

Azriel prayed to continue channeling Madan’s skills at future meetings.

“I look forward to working with you more,” Markus said, loud enough to be heard by surrounding Caersans over the dance music. “You and I have much to discuss. We shall meet soon, you and I, to further your knowledge to best serve your province.”

“Your guidance is much appreciated.”

In an instant, the mood of the Society vampires around them shifted. Suspicion and haughty superiority simmered into interest. Their cold shoulders turned open and welcoming.

Markus made this approach on purpose. No doubt he’d noticed the tension everywhere Azriel went with his daughter and wished to quell the storm with his public support. Whether his praise was truthful or calculated didn’t matter. In a few dozen words, the Princeps turned the ballroom from a hostile cage to an open field.

Which only invited hunters to shoot.

The Princeps stepped aside, and a flood of Caersans swept forward. As a young child, Azriel attended a single engagement celebration and witnessed the swarm of well-wishers upon the newly betrothed couple. What happened the moment Markus stepped away was no different.

“Lord Governor Caldwell,” said an older lord with silver streaks in his brown hair, extending his arm to him. Azriel accepted, and the vampire continued, “I am Lord Jon Tiln of Asterbury. This is my wife, Lady Valencia Tiln.”

A lord of Eastwood Province—of the very town from which he hailed. He tucked the information away for later use. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Tiln—Lady Tiln. May I introduce my fiancée, Miss Ariadne Harlow.”

Beside him, Ariadne curtsied. “My Lord. My Lady.”

“The pleasure is all ours.” Lord Tiln bowed to them both. “May we officially congratulate you both on your engagement. A surprise turn of events, to be certain.”

Azriel inclined his head. “Thank you. I admit my own surprise to find my name on that Will.”

“A fortunate change!”

“I thank the gods every night.” Azriel looked down at Ariadne at that. Her cheeks flushed with color, and his chest swelled with pride. “I look forward to visiting you in Asterbury, Lord Tiln.”

The Lord bowed low. “To host you and your exquisite future wife would be an honor.”

With that, Lord and Lady Tiln stepped aside, and the next Caersan family came forward. They exchanged the same formalities again and again, each as enthusiastic as the last. For the first time in a fortnight—gods, for the first time in his adult life—Azriel felt accepted. Even if these vampires turned around and hissed terrible things about him the moment they departed, he’d never been so welcomed.

Until, of course, Lord Governor Damen Gard stepped forward with his wife, Giselle. All the ease in his body fled. Making an enemy of Damen spelled disaster in the Council Chamber. Attempting to befriend him meant suffering Loren’s presence more often. An undesirable outcome no matter his route.

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