Page 99 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Ariadne went rigid beside him. A small, uncertain smile crossed her lips, and she slipped a little closer.

“Lord Governor Gard.” Azriel extended his arm, heart hammering in his chest.

What felt like an eternity passed before Damen accepted the gesture, squeezing harder than Azriel, and responded with a calculated attack. “Caldwell.”

No Lord or Governor. No rank, title, or term of status. In a single word, he made his thoughts on Azriel’s new position known to all.

“Damen,” Giselle hissed, her red hair shimmering as she cast her husband an exasperated look. Her brown eyes blazed at him with warning. “We talked about this.”

“Lord Governor,” Damen amended. “We extend our congratulations on your engagement.”

Giselle leaned closer to Ariadne and spoke in a low voice. “Please know we respect your decision, though we are saddened you will not be joining our family.”

“You have been like a mother to me for so long.” Ariadne took Giselle’s hand in her own. “Thank you for all you have done.”

“And shall continue to do.” The elder Caersan shot her husband another stern look.

Azriel opened his mouth to thank her for her generosity but snapped it closed as Loren slid between his parents. His red cheeks and slight sway suggested a heavy consumption of the Teaglows’ wine. Giselle sucked in a sharp breath, and Damen paled at his son’s belligerence.

Loren’s sapphire eyes shot to Ariadne’s throat, scanning the necklace which had replaced his own. “I should have known you were damaged when even the dhemons let you go.”

The closest Caersans’ collective inhale at the insult drowned out the music for a beat. Whispers whisked through the crowd, the rumors around Ariadne’s disappearance put to rest. Giselle grabbed her son’s arm, but he yanked it away without thought. Even Damen’s eyes widened in alarm.

As Ariadne shrank back from the attack, Azriel stepped forward, blinking back the shadows creeping in on the edges of his vision. “You no longer speak to her.”

“No.” Loren raised his unfocused gaze to him and smirked. “Apparently, I speak with the Bastard Lord who stole her from me.”

“Loren!” Damen snapped. “Enough!”

But Loren ignored him and took another step forward. “Tell me, Tenebra, are you proud to sully the name of the Caldwells?”

“You are trying to bait me, General.” Azriel’s patience thinned. He wanted to put an end to the incessant prejudice, but the middle of a ball was not the place for it. Not again. “I will not bite.”

Loren’s smirk turned into a sneer. “You think you are better than me?”

“I think you are drunk,” Azriel said, moving again to ensure Ariadne remained behind him. “Do not embarrass yourself.”

“You are an embarrassment to all of Society.” Loren shoved at Azriel’s chest. “Do you truly believe anyone here takes you seriously?”

“They are free to make decisions as they see fit.”

Loren shoved again. “And now you have stolen a name, a title, and my fiancée by poisoning her mind against me.”

Azriel drew himself up and stepped forward now. “You did that bit yourself. I was prepared to leave her with you until you almost broke her arm.”

More excited murmurs rose up around them, and Giselle grabbed her husband’s wrist in alarm. “Loren!”

“Enough!” Markus’s voice boomed louder than Azriel had ever heard it before. The Princeps shoved to the front of the gathered Caersans. “Enough.”

Azriel stepped back to stand beside Ariadne. She took hold of his fingers with a shaking hand, and he focused straight ahead. If he saw any semblance of fear in her face, he’d snap.

“You have overstepped, General.” Markus placed himself between them, face pale with rage. “I am more proud of my daughter’s choice of fiancé than I could ever be if I had allowed her to marry a boy who treats his woman like an object.”

Whipping his gaze to Markus, Azriel struggled to hide the shock from his face. Those were not the words he expected to hear from the Princeps—ever. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he’d be the unwanted son-in-law, tolerated only for the sake of his wife. If Markus meant what he said, it changed everything. If he’d said it as a mere jab to the General, it no longer mattered. The Society had heard it loud and clear: the Princeps preferred Azriel.

Azriel’s chest swelled with pride, and he leveled a victorious glare at Loren.

Loren gaped at him for a long moment. “My Lord Princeps, as your General, I must insist—”

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