Page 35 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

“Busy picking up the pieces left behind by incapable leadership.” Loren grasped his father’s forearm in greeting.

His father, however, squeezed back harder than normal. “Do not be so foolish again.”

Loren fought back the urge to wince at the tone. His father had been furious after his outburst at the Teaglow ball and spent the weeks following berating him for his slip. He had deserved every agonizing night of it, but he prevailed nonetheless.

“Of course not, Father,” he said with an incline of his head. Only then did Damen Gard release his hold and step back.

“To dinner, then.”

The three of them entered the dining hall where his father pushed his mother into her place before taking his seat at the head with Loren to his left. As they ate their roast beef and potatoes, fresh summer fruits and vegetables, they spoke of trivial things. The engagement celebration from the night before, potential Caersan debutantes still available, and upcoming weddings as various vampires of the Society found their matches.

None of it interested Loren in the least. Not since his own ruined engagement, then Alek Nightingale stealing away Emillie Harlow. He had hoped to see Ariadne at her sister’s celebration, yet the elder Miss Harlow had been nowhere to be seen.

To say Loren had become suspicious of her absence put it lightly. The sisters had always been around for one another. During Ariadne’s recovery after her rescue from the dhemon keep, he had found Emillie’s constant presence irritating. He had wanted Ariadne for himself, and yet where one sister went…the other followed.

“Have you called on any Caersans?” His mother peered at him from over her wine glass, snapping him from his thoughts.

Loren shook his head. “As I said earlier, I have been quite busy.”

“I imagine investigating the attack on the late Lord Governor has had you quite tied up,” she continued and laid a hand over her husband’s as though reassuring herself that he was alive and well.

“Not in the slightest.”

His mother’s brows furrowed, and she glanced at his father, who said, “Is it not your jurisdiction?”

Heat pumped outward from his chest. He had expected more from his parents. Loren sat back to survey them both, his lip curling in a sneer. “You do not honestly believe the Princeps’ lies regarding that half-breed’s disappearance?”

For once, his father paused and looked at him, puzzled, as his mother gasped from his dig at the man they believed to be dead. “I am certain I do not know what you mean.”

“Azriel Tenebra is alive.” Loren looked between his parents with smug satisfaction as they gaped back at him. Stunned to silence. Good. “He is a traitor and it was my exposing him which bought me favor with the Princeps to regain my rightful position as General.”

His father scoffed. “He had been a thorn in my side from the moment he stepped foot into that Council Chamber…but that does not mean he is a traitor, Loren. Explain.”

“During my…relief,” Loren said, spitting out the final word as though it were a rancid bit of food, “I took it upon myself to do a little digging into Tenebra’s family history. The information I gleaned had been most upsetting.”

“Quit speaking in riddles, boy.”

Loren reveled in their suspense. He sipped his wine casually and ate a bite of food, all while his parents did not move an inch. If his mother breathed at all, he would have been surprised. Like every other Caersan woman, she was but a sponge for juicy gossip.

“What I speak of tonight,” he said, looking his mother in the eye, “must not be repeated anywhere. Until the moment is right, of course.”

His mother had the audacity to look affronted. “You have my word.”

“Everyone knows he hails from the fae,” his father said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “This will be of no surprise to anyone and hardly news to the rumor mills.”

“But which fae?” Loren could not suppress his triumphant smirk. “For no one had any record of him or his father in L’Oden.”

And as suspected, the color drained from his parents’ faces as the realization dawned on them both. His mother gripped his father’s hand hard. She always had a soft spot for Ariadne, and the very accusation he was making only spelled trouble for her almost-daughter-in-law. What horrors had she endured at the hands of someone so vile?

Loren could not dwell on it. If he were to one night marry Ariadne Harlow, such images would not bode well for him. Though she had made it abundantly clear she had no desire to wed him, he now had his sights set, and he was determined to break that wild mare.

“This is a bold accusation,” his father said, “and would require quite a lot of evidence.”

He cocked his head, the smirk widening. “As it so happens, I had the time and means to experiment a bit prior to bringing my findings to the Princeps. It did not take much convincing at that point.”

“What do you mean?” his mother breathed, still holding onto his father as though he were her last tether to this world.

“Liquid sunshine does no harm to half-breeds.” Loren sipped his wine again. “But it forces those with shifting abilities to transition into their other forms.”

---