Page 130 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Keeping himself between Emillie and her dead father, Alek turned back to him. He held Emillie’s hand firm, giving it a light tug, before lowering to a knee. At first, Emillie did not follow suit. Her entire body shook as she slowly—oh, so slowly—knelt beside her husband, her father’s blood soaking into her dress.

“Your Majesty.” To his credit, Alek kept a straight face as he bowed his head and said, “I pay my allegiance to you, King Loren Gard of Valenul, and so swear my undying loyalty. May you strike me down should I prove to be unfaithful or break this pledge.”

Loren chuffed and nodded. “I quite like the way you said that. You must write it down for all others to repeat.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“I accept your pledge,” Loren said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And as I am feeling generous, I will accept it for you both. Your duties as Lord Governor will remain almost entirely the same. Do not expect to meet with the Council. It is hereby disbanded.”

Alek, in all his wisdom, did not look up. He did not respond at all. That would be enough for him. Likewise, Emillie said nothing more. She stared at some point on the floor near Loren’s boots, crying silently.

At least she had finally shut up.

“Colonel Wintre.” Loren pivoted to his officers.

The stout man stood a little straighter, unperturbed by the events unfolding before him. In fact, he looked positively giddy. A good soldier. He bent at the waist as he said, “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“At ease.” Loren felt light as a feather now that his plan had finally unfolded without a hitch. Wintre stood straight again. “Alert the Provinces of these changes. I expect to hear from all Lords within a fortnight. They are to come to Laeton with their families immediately to also swear their fealty to me. Anyone who refuses is to be cut down without hesitation. In addition, I would like scouts to be sent in all directions in search of my bride. Send a company to Algorath. Something tells me she has been hiding there. Bring her to me.”

Behind him, Emillie made a small sound before being quieted by Alek speaking in low tones. Loren smirked. If everyone were to bow as easily as he, this would be no problem. Having their families present would make the transition run smooth as ever.

“Is there anything else, Your Majesty?”

“Just one.” Loren’s smirk grew. “Madan Caldwell is a traitor. I want him dead.”

Chapter 31

This is what you deserve .

When Ehrun’s wife and daughter were murdered, Azriel watched the dhemon transform from Auhla’s gentle giant into a monster. Where once he grappled with the children, laughing and playing to teach them the basic self-defense needed to survive in the Keonis Mountains, he then picked up the sword. Knives. Crossbows. Any weapon he could get his hands on. He forgot pieces of his past—forgot friendships and peace and harmony—and built a new foundation of hate and cruelty.

Azriel never understood it. After all, the Crowe had lived through the same trauma. He’d seen Mariana cut down by the Caersan she was supposed to trust above all others. As maniacal as his father grew over the years, slowly spiraling into madness from his shattered bond, the dhemon had never fully lost himself to the blood and battle.

But the Crowe had had Azriel. He’d had Madan. Remnants of that bond lived on in his sons’ veins, holding together the frail pieces of his sanity over the centuries and keeping him from breaking beyond repair.

This is what you deserve.

Now Azriel understood. Dhemons were never meant to have their bonds broken entirely. Their ancestral link to the Underworld was meant to keep those soul-deep connections intact. It allowed them to move through the rest of their lives, waiting patiently for the day they, too, would join Keon and be reunited with their love. But since that link had been broken thousands of years ago…there was no such hope.

Even so, Ariadne would never have been sent to the Underworld.

The depth of despair that swallowed Azriel following her death was incomprehensible, and for the first time in his life, he knew exactly why Ehrun did what he had done. As wretched as the dhemon had become, he had been doing all he could to exact the vengeance he felt was necessary. After killing Ariadne’s mother, he went after the daughter—just as Markus had done.

Now, it was Azriel’s turn to scrape together the last shreds of meaning to his life. He’d live. That much he knew. But it wasn’t grief or determination that fueled him as he stalked out of the cell the following morning.

Hate raged through him.

After dragging himself from the sands and collapsing in his cell, curled in on himself and clutching his horns as he cried until there were no more tears, he slept. Slept and decided he would destroy everything and everyone who had ever so much as looked at Ariadne wrong. Oh, he would have his revenge on Melia, of that he was certain. She already believed him to be a heartless monster. What she didn’t realize was that she created him, and he’d make her wish she’d never touched his wife.

This is your fault.

The blinding sun did nothing to slow his pace. Azriel marched across the training grounds and collected a bowl of wretched food before starting toward the fae already hunkered in the slim strip of shade provided by the wall. He passed Raoul, who frowned when he didn’t stop. Instead, he crouched in front of Liulund and his friends as they watched him with wary eyes.

“I’m ready to burn this place to the ground.” Azriel looked between them. “I need you by my side. Swear a blood oath to me, and I’ll make sure we all walk out of this gods’ forsaken prison.”

Liulund raised his brows. “A blood oath? In exchange for what? A battle that could kill us?”

“You’d rather die in the Pits?” Azriel cocked his head. “What is it? Are you afraid of some mages?”

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