Page 25 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Her father seethed. “She knows—”

“She knows nothing.” Now Alek moved forward, forcing her father back a step. “If your other daughter is missing, that is due to your negligence, not hers.”

“I will not be spoken to in such a manner.”

“Very well,” Alek held out his arm to Emillie without looking at her. “Then we will proceed with the night’s events as planned. Or would you like another scandal on your hands?”

Together, they stepped around her father. Emillie’s heart hammered in her chest, and she clung to his arm as though it were her only lifeline. Perhaps it was now. She had chosen him to be her voice when others would not listen. He had not let her down.

Night after night swept past Ariadne in a blur of evergreens, fern-shrouded animal trails, and the desperate hunt for shelter as each dawn encroached. Abandoned huts or run-down shacks with enough of the roofs and walls left to provide refuge from the sun became her sanctuaries throughout the daylight hours. Thanks to Emillie’s foresight, the satchel she carried with her out of the Harlow Estate bore food and water canteens. She ate and drank sparingly, uncertain when she would arrive in Monsumbra.

She kept to the fields and forests in the shadows of the Keonis Mountains. To wander too close to Lake Cypher’s banks or even the eastern river feeding into it could result in her being found. Towns and cities dotted the waterways, filled with soldiers and members of the Society who undoubtedly knew her face. On the other hand, vampires kept far from the foothills in fear of dhemon raids.

Yet sticking so close to the mountains made Ariadne wary. No matter how much distance she put between herself and Laeton, and despite constantly checking over her shoulder, she could not shake the feeling that she was being watched. Followed. As though a shadow hung over her, tracking her every move.

When she neared the Eastern Passage, a twisted part of her prayed to find Azriel amongst soldiers escorting him to Algorath. Perhaps if she interceded alone, she could buy him enough time to escape.

But the Eastern Passage came and went with no signs of them, and before long, she crossed a wide, shallow part of the river into the outskirts of Monsumbra. The farmland on either side of the small road stretched out in great, rolling waves of emerald grass and golden wheat. Homes, large and small, speckled the horizons, and vampires worked the fields in the moonlight. Whether they did so to escape the heat or avoid aegrisolis, she could not tell from her distance. Some paused long enough to look up from their work and nod in her direction, but no one spoke.

Good. She did not wish to converse with any of them, either. She would not know what to say or whether she could trust them to not spill her secrets to passing soldiers.

Until, of course, Ariadne realized she had no idea where to go. She had never been to the Caldwell Estate, and her last visit to Monsumbra had been so long ago, the likelihood of her even being able to describe a landmark was slim.

That she had even made it to Monsumbra in decent time was a miracle, and all thanks to the map Emillie had ripped from an atlas to shove into her bag. Between her sister’s scribbled directions and the notable constellations, she had been able to decipher which way to proceed at the start of each night. After all, her most recent journey in this direction had been viewed through a fog of blind terror.

“Excuse me,” Ariadne called to a nearby field hand. She was still a good distance from town but knew better than to wander into Monsumbra proper, where soldiers may already be searching for her. News would have traveled faster than she could in her circumstances.

The vampire, a Rusan by the lack of blue veins spidering up his neck, paused and looked up at her, a scythe stilling in one hand. He studied her clothing—well made, but filthy from days of sleeping on the ground—and signs of her Caersan lineage before frowning. “Yes’m?”

Ariadne shifted in her saddle. “I am looking for the Caldwell Estate. Do you know where I would find it?”

“Yes’m.” The Rusan tilted his head, pale curls sticking to the sweat on his forehead. “Where’d you come from, then?”

Another shift of discomfort. She plastered a smile on her face and said, “I really need to get there before dawn. My brother expects me.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “Your brother’s the Lord Governor?”

Fuck. She should not have said that. “Yes.”

“Then why don’t you know where it’s at?”

Sucking in a deep, centering breath, Ariadne glared at the stars overhead and prayed for patience. “Please. I just need your help.”

His chuckle, unexpected as it was, made her heart skip a beat. “Just north of the city. Cut through the next apple orchard you come across, then follow the road on the other side.”

“Thank you very much.” She paused, a hand digging into her pocket. No gold. The one thing neither she nor Emillie had anticipated needing had been money. As if Lord Markus Harlow would ever allow his daughters to manage their own finances. Credits in stores were all they were good for. So when she came up empty-handed, she grimaced. “I am sorry…I have no coin.”

The Rusan’s face scrunched. “I don’t want your money.”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you for your kindness?” Fair is fair, after all. She owed him something in return for him somehow understanding she needed to stay out of the city limits.

He surveyed her for a long moment, then shook his head again. “Just tell your brother we need help out here.”

That was not what she expected. “Help?”

The Rusan turned back to his wheat, adjusting his grip on the scythe. “A lot of dhemon sightings lately. People are scared.”

Of course there would be an uptick in dhemon sightings. With Madan back in Monsumbra, he was certain to be back in contact with his friends, allies, and most importantly, his partner. The man Azriel had originally allowed her to believe was high fae.

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