Page 5 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

“What lies have you conjured now?” Ariadne demanded, finding her tongue before her father could reply and looking up at Loren with venom.

Loren chuckled and stepped aside to look down at her. “You know as well as I that it is he who has lied this entire time. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

So he planned to expose Azriel. If he believed for even a second that anyone would listen to him after everything he had done, he was more unhinged than she thought. Between his abuse and the attempt to drag Azriel into a fight, her father would hear none of it. Not without solid proof. Proof he did not have—

Azriel grunted again and doubled over, clutching his wrist to his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, the air hissing between his teeth. Something was going terribly wrong with the way his body was processing the mage poison.

“You have overstepped, Mister Gard,” her father announced and stepped closer to her and Azriel, his brows drawn taut. “Again.”

“I believe you will want to see this.” A slow grin crept onto Loren’s face. His cold, sapphire eyes never left Azriel as he pulled a small, glowing vial from his pocket with a gloved hand. He winked, then tucked it away again.

Ariadne’s heart stuttered at the sight of the liquid sunshine. Seeing the vial again dragged her right back to that night in the cellar. Right back to when she had almost touched it. Right back to what she had seen: the dead shifter fae, half-turned and still chained to the wall. Loren had not taken Madan to torture the truth from him…he had abducted him as an experiment. The shifter fae had been half-vampire and an integral part of Loren’s findings.

Liquid sunshine forced transitions.

“Azriel,” she whispered and laid a hand on his face. He tried to pull away, jaw flexing and eyes shut tight. “Azriel, listen to me. You can stop this.”

The whimper, like nothing she had ever heard from him before, tore through her heart. He curled in on himself again, his entire body shuddering from the strain of containing the shift.

“This is treason,” her father snarled above her, and she could only imagine the fury on his face, for she did not look away from her husband. Around her, soldiers shifted uncomfortably. “You have all falsely accused and arrested a Lord Governor without cause. Titles, ranks, and positions will be stripped—”

“Patience, my Lord Princeps,” Loren cut in. “I would never request Captain Jensen or any of these fine gentlemen to put their positions on the line if I were not positive in my accusation. This Lord Governor is, in fact, one of our greatest enemies: a dhemon soldier from the Crowe’s ranks.”

Ariadne whipped her gaze up as her father paused, golden gaze sweeping from Loren to Azriel. “And why, pray tell, would you say such a thing?”

“Do not listen to him,” Ariadne said and slid her fingers into her husband’s shaking hand. She gave it a tight squeeze. The gesture, common between her and her sister, Emillie, had made its way into every aspect of her life. Now Azriel received the same comforting touch. “Loren is a snake, determined to ruin Azriel since their meeting.”

Loren chuckled again. The sound grated on her ears. “Oh, my Lady, you know as well as I how true my words are, but this is not your place to speak. Let the men talk. Gods, Lord Caldwell, what ails you?”

Azriel shuddered and shook his head. Still, he did not reply. Instead, the now-familiar sound of cracking bones made Ariadne’s heart drop. She gripped his hand tighter, but he pulled away with a groan to cover his face as he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

Tan skin gave way to midnight sapphire. His body jerked from the growing bones, and black horns spiraled out from his skull. The fine Caersan traveling clothes stretched to their limits as his body expanded to its larger frame.

No. This could not be happening. Not now. Not in front of so many witnesses.

Before Ariadne could say or do anything, rough hands wrapped around her upper arms and dragged her back. She gasped, stomach lurching into her throat as her feet scrambled to find purchase on the marble floor. For a heartbeat, she froze like she had mere weeks ago when Ehrun dragged her and Madan from the carriage. Froze and watched as her husband looked up at her with pleading ruby eyes. His chest heaved from the effort of fighting the transition.

“Gods have mercy,” her father hissed in her ear. His grip tightened on her arms before shoving her behind him. As though he needed to protect her from the dhemon now kneeling in his foyer. “General Gard. You spoke the truth from the beginning.”

The metallic song of swords being drawn echoed through the foyer. In an instant, a dozen sharp tips pointed at Azriel’s throat, daring him to move. Amongst those holding the blades, Nikolai shook his head and murmured, “Monster.”

A victorious spark lit in Loren’s eyes at the sound of his title returned to him. The corner of his mouth kicked up, and he turned that wicked gaze to Azriel. “As I said, my Lord Princeps: a trickster and an enemy. My only regret is the delay in my evidence.”

A fire flared to life in Ariadne at that. She lurched forward, held back by her father’s outstretched arm. “You fucking bastard!”

Azriel’s eyes widened, fear shining in them. Not for him. For her. “Ariadne—”

“You no longer speak to her.” Loren stepped forward and gripped the horn nearest him to jerk his head back. “By the laws of Valenul, your marriage never happened. Miss Harlow is no longer your concern.”

Ariadne moved faster than her thoughts. She shoved past her father and slammed a fist into Loren’s face, exactly how Azriel taught her outside the Bistro. Reeling back to strike again, fingers wrapped around her wrist and, for the second time, she was dragged away. This time, Nikolai’s arms wrapped around her. The Captain protecting his General.

Her husband lurched forward, and for a moment, she believed he would break free. Loren held fast to the horn, yanking him back before pressing a long knife to his throat. A thin trickle of blood snaked down Azriel’s neck beside the just-closing puncture marks from her fangs.

“Take your hands off him!” she screamed, writhing in Nikolai’s hold. Heat stung her eyes.

Loren did no such thing. He ignored her, as he always did, and looked to her father expectantly. “With your permission, my Lord.”

“Father, please!” Ariadne tried, and failed, to break free again while her tears succeeded. They streamed down her cheeks from the fear. “Please! I love him, I love him!”

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