Page 44 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Ariadne sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing Madan’s hand hard. Silver rimmed her eyes, and she whispered, “Can you speak to Azriel?”

He squeezed his sister’s hand in return as Razer shifted his head back and forth in a silent no. Madan grimaced. “We have a telepathic link with our bondhearts, but he’s too far away.”

At last, Ariadne released his hand. Madan stepped back to watch as she moved closer to Razer and tentatively cupped the dragon’s huge maw. The near-black scales glinted under her small hands, and Razer’s vibrant eyes watched her with more tenderness than Madan had ever seen from the big brute. She slid her fingers over his broad, spiked cheek, then neck, and then leaned her face against him and said, voice breaking, “I miss him.”

Razer closed his eyes and let out a long, hot breath. He curled his head around to her other side, pulling her in close in what Madan could only call a hug.

A dhemon behind him snorted and said in his language, “I wish Nix did that for me.”

“You ruin every good moment,” muttered the woman who had spotted Ariadne in the forest first.

Madan choked back a laugh but said nothing even as his sister stroked the dragon’s neck. The motion mimicked how he’d seen her praise Astra time and again. That Razer allowed such similarities to a person’s pet only underscored just how lost he was knowing where Azriel had gone.

“Why did Razer not go to Azriel?” Ariadne asked quietly, her voice cracking. “If you have dragons…why did none of you save him?”

The dhemons quietened. Madan’s heart squeezed painfully. He shared a look with Whelan, then said, “Azriel told Razer to protect you.”

Ariadne’s lower lip thinned as she pulled it between her teeth and bit. The tears she had held back now slipped down her cheeks. “I did not need—”

“You know as well as I,” he said quietly and stepped forward cautiously as Razer eyed him maliciously, “that’s not true. Razer reported to Oria and then Whelan that he’d seen quite a few dhemons tracking you. His presence alone kept them away.”

“Could no one else?”

“Not all of us have a bondheart,” Madan explained with careful patience. She did not and could not understand all they had to do. “Many of the dragons aren’t in the area. We tried, but Ehrun has greater numbers, and they…kept us from him. Believe me, Sister, I would’ve stopped this if I could.”

Memories sent to him by other dhemons and their dragon counterparts flashed through his mind. A dragon named Mhorn had shared the vision of him interlocking claws with a foe as they tore into each other high in the air. Far below, Razer had paired the image with Ariadne galloping hard across a stream, oblivious to the battle high above her. Another, Bindhe, had been forced to turn back after locating Azriel in the Eastern Passage when three of Ehrun’s cronies appeared to block her way to him. Yet another memory showed Razer himself slamming into the ground as a massive, violet dragon tore into his shoulder near the foothills.

Ariadne watched him for a long moment, unable to fully comprehend the extent to which they had tried, before nodding and turning back to Razer. Her next words to the dragon were lost to him. In response, Razer chuffed and settled low, curling around Ariadne with caution. He’d never seen either of them connect with a stranger so quickly. It was almost as though she and the dragon had their own understanding of one another.

Madan looked at Whelan. His partner shrugged.

Ariadne’s fingers traced the missing scales on Razer’s shoulder, her face twisting with unspoken pain, and Madan understood. The Caersan woman and the dragon had a different type of tether between their hearts: Azriel.

Chapter 11

By the time Emillie saw Alek again, her bruises had long since disappeared. Her father had ensured her swift healing by contacting Nikolai to perform his Elit duties and provide her with his blood. She had not seen the Captain since Ariadne stuck a blade in his thigh, but he appeared in high spirits. As always, the two Caersan men had spoken throughout her feeding, and he had turned a blind eye to her injuries.

She arrived at Laeton Park with Sul chaperoning just after midnight. The carriage journey, though not long, felt unending without Ariadne to accompany her. She had never enjoyed riding as much as her sister, and the prospect of speaking with her sullen guard was far less appealing than a lonely drive. As such, she tucked herself away from the Caersan, wishing not for the first time that it was Gracen who had survived their last excursion to Laeton Park.

Stepping down from the carriage, she thanked Sul as always and swept her gaze across the rolling lawns. She had not enjoyed the view since the night dhemons attacked while on a stroll with Ariadne and Azriel. The openness now unnerved her.

“You look well, Miss Harlow.” Alek’s familiar drawl dragged her attention from the swaying trees in the distance to her fiancé as he dismounted from his stallion. “How have you fared since the celebration?”

She hid her wince at the memory of his departure behind a small smile as he kissed her fingers. “I have been well.”

Alek studied her face for a long moment, his coal-black eyes taking in every rise and fall. The way his mouth twitched down told her he did not believe her words, though she could not fathom why. Then he glanced at Sul and offered her his arm. Rather than speak on his suspicions, he said, “I am glad to hear that.”

They started off, her personal guard trailing at a respectable distance. Sul’s hand stayed firmly on the hilt of his sword, and his gaze swept side to side as they moved. Perhaps he was just as traumatized by the incident all those weeks ago as she was.

Not that that made her feel any better.

Fortunately, Alek kept his distance from the copse of trees at the far end of Laeton Park. Instead, he steered her along Lake Cypher’s edge, where she could marvel at the moonlight dancing through the water’s ripples. Families strolled through the grass, and small children even splashed along in ankle-deep water. The sounds of joviality and love burned like a hot iron into Emillie’s heart.

What was the likelihood of having such a future with the man at her side? Seeing as she could never look at him with the devotion glowing in many wives’ eyes, she doubted it possible.

“I am well aware,” Alek said, his voice low enough to keep Sul’s sharp ears from prying, “that our marriage is contractual at best.”

Emillie swallowed and looked up at him with feigned innocence. “What could you mean?”

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