Page 133 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Shaking her head, Revelie sneered at the title. “How dare he assume such a rank. Will the Lord Governors do nothing?”

“Alek and I were forced to swear fealty.” Emillie’s throat burned. She stared at her palms, remembering the way they had dripped crimson the night before. Her next words left her in a rasp, “Or he would have killed us, too.”

Sensing the shift of Emillie’s thoughts, Revelie took hold of her hand, her eyes searching. “What is Alek going to do?”

Emillie scoffed. “What can he do?”

Kyra gave her a sad smile, then said to Revelie, “He’s doing everything he can to keep her safe.”

“As he should,” Revelie agreed. “What of Madan? Have you heard from him?”

She nodded to the letter still open beside her teapot. “He is locked away as well…but…”

Both women waited patiently for her to continue. She did not want to speak the words aloud, for Madan was the only one left of her family. If she said it, then she could be condemning him as readily as she had condemned her father by withholding her admission of love.

“Loren ordered Madan’s death,” she finally said, her throat burning again. The pit in her stomach yawned wide. “He has…mere nights before the officers in Eastwood are given the command.”

Revelie cursed under her breath. “May the gods look over him.”

With a shuddering breath, Emillie grimaced. “I fear the gods have abandoned us all.”

Chapter 32

It didn’t take a prophet to see what vile plan Loren had concocted, and Madan wasn’t about to allow it to come to fruition. He would have to act first, forcing the hands of the soldiers on his grounds and, in doing so, risk inciting a war.

As though Loren had not already done so by invoking the militaristic rule over Valenul. The General may be despicable, but he hadn’t climbed into such a powerful position without a sharp mind.

When Madan had first returned to Monsumbra, he’d quickly grown accustomed to falling asleep next to Whelan and made the decision to never stay so long from his partner ever again. That the wretched crimson-clad soldiers now roaming the grounds kept him from his love only served to infuriate him. He’d ruin them.

If anyone believed Azriel to be the more dangerous of the two of them, they hadn’t seen what Madan was capable of. Growing up as the only pure-blooded vampire in Auhla forced him to be ruthless. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have made it very far, even with the Crowe watching over him.

So, as Brutis announced the approach of Madan’s small rescue party, his heart didn’t flutter with anticipation. His hand didn’t shake with nerves about whether or not he’d survive. He knew what the outcome would be. He knew that, against a company of Loren’s soldiers, he’d always come out on top.

After all, Madan had been part of the raiding parties for centuries. He’d cut down as many of his own as the dhemons now coming to provide him the aid he so desperately needed. And he’d do it all again without hesitation.

“Grandmother!” Madan shouted from the foyer as he strapped on hard, leather armor he hadn’t worn since his nights raiding vampire villages. It fit just as well as the last time he’d put it on all those years ago, but fastening each piece became a chore with only one hand. He did what he could, using his teeth to tighten the straps. “It’s time!”

The servants had long since been sent away. No innocents needed to be caught in the middle of what was to come. They’d done him a great service as it was by providing him with their care. He’d never forgive himself if they perished because of his plans.

After all, he may have killed many an innocent vampire in raids, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to continue such brutality. He’d changed. Drastically.

“I am coming,” Margot said as she stepped into view, her lithe body dressed as he’d instructed with trousers, high riding boots, a thick tunic, and a cloak. She carried a small bag of spare clothes. Nothing else could come.

Thousands of years of living at the Caldwell Estate had come to an abrupt end. It’d taken quite some time to convince his grandmother to leave the manor. She’d become accustomed to its rooms and luxuries, and it’d been her home for longer than Madan could even comprehend. Along with her age, she’d had a number of reasons to never leave the place.

He only needed one to ensure she left when it was time: the final adventure.

“We’re ready.” Brutis’s voice slid through Madan’s mind gently. “Give us the word.”

The understatement of the century. The dragon had been ready to raze the entire building when the lockdown began. It’d taken Madan all of his mental fortitude to keep the beast contained. He had to ensure he didn’t have to drag Margot from a burning manor and that all the servants were clear of the estate.

Stopping before him, Margot huffed at the sloppy application of Madan’s armor. She set her bag at his feet and fussed over the straps. Only when she was satisfied that they weren’t moving did she step back and say, “Be safe.”

Madan smiled, his heart warm. “Lhuka will take care of you.”

“I still do not understand why you cannot escort me to your…dragon.” Margot had been interested yet skeptical when he’d come clean about Brutis and the others. The prospect of flying didn’t seem to frighten her. “I do not want you fighting like this.”

He ignored her pointed look at his arm. In truth, he hadn’t been able to train as often as he’d liked since the amputation. His visit to Algorath had been more than anything else. Though the counterbalance would be off, he remained confident in his skills. “I’ll be fine. Stay with Lhuka, and I’ll be back with you in no time.”

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