Page 120 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

“And what are they expecting from me?”

A small smile curled Raoul’s lips. “You’re gonna get us out of here.”

Laughable. He looked at the guards lining the top of the walls. “And how do you expect me to achieve that?”

Sasja looked between them and said in the dhemon tongue, “You’re the only one who can get close to Melia.”

“She’d never let me near her unless I eat this.” He lifted the bowl.

“Or maybe you need to convince her you have.”

“I’m not an actor.”

“Someone please tell me what you’re saying,” Raoul grumbled. “She can understand us, but not the other way around.”

Azriel translated, just as perplexed as Raoul appeared. It’d been clear from the beginning that if he was going to get anywhere near Melia, he wouldn’t be in his right mind. Pretending to be as out of sorts would be almost impossible to pull off, and he wanted her to know he was fully aware of his actions when he killed her.

Nonetheless, Sasja was right. He had history with her. He was the only one with whom she might invite an audience. If anyone was going to get them out…it would be him. And he hated that.

“I need food, though,” Azriel said in the common tongue so both friends understood him. “Or I’ll never be strong enough to overpower this fucking collar.”

“Not a problem.” Raoul held his bowl between them. “We’ll share. You gave me half of yours most days anyway.”

“Thank you.”

Even if their plan wasn’t ideal, Azriel would do what he could to get out for Ariadne. If that meant pretending to be under Melia’s hold…then he’d do it.

He’d always do anything for her. Until the very end.

Chapter 29

Prepare for war .

Lord Knoll’s words echoed in Madan’s mind again and again following his visit. When he returned that same evening, he and Whelan had made the difficult decision of maintaining distance between them. Whelan moved out of the manor and made his way back into the Keonis Mountains along with the other dhemons.

And, gods, Madan was thankful for the decision.

Upon returning to Monsumbra after Emillie’s wedding, with Brutis turning the arduous journey into a single night, he had fallen asleep alone in his bed only to be awoken to word that a company of crimson-clad soldiers awaited him downstairs. He stepped into the foyer where several of the highest ranking stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and took them all in with disdain. Nothing good ever came of soldiers arriving at his home uninvited.

“Good evening, Lord Governor.” The Colonel of the group, evident by the gold Valenul crest on his jacket, stepped forward and bowed. His black hair gleamed in the light of the chandelier overhead in stark contrast to his white skin and hooded pale blue eyes that shone like ice. “My name is Colonel Vedrick Thorne.”

Madan did not offer him a customary greeting. “What can I do for you, Colonel?”

“I have a directive from General Gard,” Vedrick said, catching on to Madan’s hesitation and standing a little straighter as though that would make him more imposing. He held out a document, the crimson wax seal cracked.

Taking the page, Madan used his amputated arm to steady it as he unfolded the edges. The writing was in Loren’s penmanship, with his audacious signature at the bottom. He read it, heart dropping into his stomach with every sentence. It damned Azriel by exposing his lineage, damned Madan for his familial ties to the dhemons, and damned Markus Harlow for allowing their ascent to power.

As though that were not bad enough, the second half of the document described Loren’s next steps: imposing a militaristic rule on all Valenul.

Madan looked up at the Colonel, his blood cold as ice. “Military Directive Fourteen?”

“You and the Dowager Caldwell are to remain on the estate grounds until further notice.” Vedrick held out his hand again, and Madan returned the missive. “I will be leaving a company of soldiers to ensure your cooperation.”

“Am I being arrested for a crime I did not commit?”

“Of course not, Lord Governor.” Vedrick nodded to the soldiers behind him. Without another word, they dispersed through the manor. “This is for your protection.”

“I did not grant you access to my home.” Madan’s heart thundered in his chest. He balled his only hand into a fist. “I have been searched time and again since my appointment to this position despite my cooperation. This is an unethical intrusion of privacy.”

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