Page 154 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

A deep, hearty chuckle was the last thing he heard before severing the connection. While most referred to him as dhomin out of spite, it’d never been that way with Razer. The dragon had called him Little Prince for as long as he could remember—all because he was, quite literally, small in comparison.

It didn’t mean Azriel had to like it.

Soft fingers trailed down his spine. He stiffened at first, then exhaled long and slow as he recognized the touch. Recognized her.

“Are you alright?” Her sleepy voice was soft, and when he turned to look at her, she watched him through her lashes.

No. He laid back down beside her. “Never better, my love.”

She hummed, a line forming between her brows as though she didn’t quite believe him. Nonetheless, she moved closer, draping a leg over his body and tucked in under his arm, head on his shoulder. “Were you talking with Razer?”

He grunted.

“Did he have any words of wisdom?”

Oh, the great brute would get a kick out of that later when he picked through Azriel’s mind. Fantastic. “The dhemons considered my father a king of sorts.”

Ariadne snuggled even closer like she tried to climb into his soul. “Kall calls me ydhom. He is insufferable about it, really.”

A small smile curled his lips despite himself, and he closed his eyes. “It suits you, ydhomja.”

“What does that mean?”

“My princess.” Azriel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her natural scent like his own personal drug—one he’d gladly overdose on any night, no trickery needed. “But I’m not certain I want to be their dhom.”

She hummed again, this time in thought. “Why not?”

“Have you seen me?” He shook his head, horns brushing over her hair. “I’m not exactly royalty material. The Crowe’s title was more of an earned rank than an inherited position.”

A contemplative hum accompanied a long yawn. “Did you earn your title, too?”

Azriel sighed. “I don’t know.”

“What about with the other prisoners?”

“I’m certainly not their prince.” His stomach knotted. He’d had them complete the blood oath when he believed he had nothing left to live for aside from his vengeance. He’d bound them to him to not only kill Melia but to hunt down every single person who’d ever wronged her.

Ehrun.

Loren.

Markus.

Nikolai.

Every fucking dhemon who touched her.

The list extended through members of the Society, old and young, men and women and anyone in between. He’d fantasized about what he’d do to each one for letting her down and how he’d use his small band of murderous prisoners to ensure each of them suffered.

Now, lying there with her curled in his arms, he couldn’t imagine leaving her to do any of it. Even if he’d happily make each of them pay for their mistreatment of her, it’d have to wait. Anything could wait so long as she was with him. So long as her presence kept that damned bond intact.

Azriel closed his eyes, shutting out all thoughts of revenge in favor of soaking up every breath with her. He couldn’t return to Valenul, so he’d build her a life elsewhere. Perhaps she’d enjoy the Leus Plains. Or they could visit the Vol Isles.

He’d just begun to drift back to sleep when Razer dug in his mental talons, jolting him wide awake again. The dragon slammed image after image into Azriel’s mind, along with a flood of words and memories that, to anyone unfamiliar with a vinculum, would find overwhelming. He let them sweep through him as though they were his own and sorted each into their appropriate categories.

“What the fuck do you mean Valenul has fallen?” He fought the urge to get up, dress, and find his brother. The memories were clear. The message was one he couldn’t comprehend.

“Are you thick?” Madan’s voice sounded far away. “Loren murdered Markus, dissolved the Council, and put a crown on his own fucking head.”

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