Page 7 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Emillie could not feel her legs. Her white-knuckled grip on the banister remained the only thing that kept her upright as the massive black horns spiraled out from Azriel’s head. His skin flushed blue, and when he looked up at Ariadne, those red eyes dripped icy dread into her gut.

A dhemon knelt in the foyer of her family home, just as terrifying and deadly as those who had ambushed them in Laeton Park. The newest Lord Governor, the very man who had protected them from the monsters that fateful evening, was one of them.

Yet her sister did not appear alarmed. After Ariadne’s abduction and subsequent torture at the hands of the dhemons, Emillie expected a greater reaction. Terror. Horror. Betrayal. Anything except what occurred as Nikolai dragged her away from the half-vampire.

Please! I love him, I love him!

Emillie watched in stunned silence as Ariadne screamed, Azriel fell beneath the sea of crimson, and their father’s expression shifted from shock to cool calculation. Even after the dhemon disappeared out the front doors, he did not hide his disgust. Her sister’s sudden, violent outlash only underscored the aberration of what occurred until her father turned those vibrant gold eyes up to her.

“No one is to know of this.” Though her father studied her for a reaction, the volume at which he spoke signaled that he spoke to the entire manor. Staff, visitors, and family fell under his jurisdiction. Even Loren.

The reappointed General stepped forward. “I must insist we dispose of him before anyone else discovers his treachery. The longer we wait, the more likely he is to resume his vampire form and poison the minds of others.”

“Not yet.” Her father pulled his gaze away, giving her leave to suck in a shuddering breath, and turned back to Loren. “He has gone this long playing the part. He would not risk exposing himself to others.”

“If I may ask,” Loren pressed, “about what do you wish to interrogate him?”

Something dark crept across her father’s face. From her vantage point, Emillie watched every inch of him stiffen at the inquiry. He glanced up at her and said, “It is a personal matter.”

“To do with the elder Miss Harlow?”

Miss Harlow. As though her sister had never even seen Azriel, let alone fallen in love with and married him. Though Emillie was not well-versed in Valenul’s more complex laws, she could not pinpoint one which stated Ariadne’s marriage should be annulled. Everyone of import had witnessed it for themselves less than a month ago. Though, given her father’s aptitude for erasing marriages from history, she doubted it would be impossible.

Her father clasped his hands behind his back. “It is none of your concern.”

The front doors swung open again, and Alek Nightingale swept into the foyer. The Lord Governor of the Waer Province to the west of Laeton turned every head in his direction no matter where he went. Whether it be due to his handsome features of long black hair and matching eyes or the dark rumors surrounding him since taking up his mantle, it did not matter. He commanded attention and never let it go to waste. His grand entrance into the Harlow Manor was no exception.

“Apologies for the intrusion.” A slow smirk twisted his full mouth as he shifted his hooded obsidian gaze from Princeps to General to her. “I had come to escort Miss Harlow to town as scheduled when—to my utter surprise—I saw a prison wagon leaving the estate. Are you all well?”

Emillie’s stomach dropped. They were due for a promenade at Laeton Park, arranged by her father. The shocking events of the evening had driven the very public engagement from her mind.

“Quite.” Her father turned to her and held a hand out expectantly. “Daughter.”

It took sheer force of will to pry her fingers from the banister. They did not respond right away and shook like a leaf in the wind when, at last, they fell to her sides. Her feet, likewise, refused to move at first. She merely stood and stared at them all.

“Emillie.”

Her father’s stern tone sent a sharp shock through her, and before she knew what she was doing, she stood at the foot of the stairs. Blood pounded in her ears, drowning out Alek’s greeting as he swept up her shaking hand and kissed her fingers.

The Caersan men spoke amongst each other, her father and Loren deflecting any questions by Alek regarding what occurred. Emillie paid them no heed. Her mind whirled with inquiries of her own. What did Ariadne think of Azriel? How long had her sister known of his true heritage? Was he as dangerous as Loren and her father were making him out to be?

No. No, he could not be if Ariadne trusted him. If Ariadne loved him even after seeing what he turned into.

Then the events preceding the Gard’s Ball a fortnight ago slammed into focus. Azriel had appeared rather haggard and did not eat during their early morning tea. Though her sister blamed it on Madan’s disappearance, she had arrived back at the Harlow Estate quite suddenly, not long before dawn, looking shaken and disturbed. Emillie wrote it off at the time as a lover’s quarrel.

Now she understood.

Ariadne had discovered Azriel’s true fae lineage—not high fae as they had believed upon their meeting—but horned. A dhemon and descendant of the God of the Underworld, Keon, himself. The same monsters who had carried her away into the mountains.

No wonder she had been so distraught.

I love him, I love him!

Those words, those screams of desperate terror, played through Emillie’s mind again and again. They dug their claws into her heart and soul and tore out the piece of her that feared the dhemon now carried away by a prison wagon. He had protected them both time and again from the monsters of the mountains. Azriel was not their enemy.

To her father and Loren, however, he remained so.

Emillie looked up to Alek, his wicked black eyes seeking her out even as her father informed him of Loren’s reappointment to General. He had captured a dangerous criminal, they claimed. Someone who deserved no empathy for the vile deeds he committed.

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