Page 72 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Interest mounted in those coal-black eyes, and Alek sat back to study him again with languid interest. “Yes. You can trust me.”

This time, when Madan made to bid him farewell, Alek cut him off and continued, “So long as you answer all my questions.”

So Madan settled back in and did just that.

Algorath was the most beautiful city Ariadne had ever seen, and it only got better during the day. Thanks to the Noct, she could don an outfit not unlike those used by the city guards, including a shemagh to wrap around her face, and walk through the bustling streets alongside Phulan. The way the city seemed to glow under the midday sun made her blood pound and her senses go on high alert. While her instincts told her that what she did was wrong, the rush of it thrilled her in a way she never knew before.

The people of the city only made Algorath that much more stunning…and that much more dangerous.

“It’s best for your face to remain hidden,” Phulan had said as she wrapped the shemagh over Ariadne’s face and hair the first day. “We don’t want Melia’s people to see you yet. Not until we’re ready.”

“Are you friends with Melia?” Ariadne had asked, adjusting to the constricting new clothing. If it were not for the Noct’s cool touch, she would have been too warm under the layers.

Phulan had scoffed at that. “That woman has no friends. She has allies.”

“And are you an ally?”

“She keeps close tabs on me,” Phulan had said, checking that she did not reveal too much of her skin. “And in doing so, I’ve become someone she keeps around.”

The answer had thrilled her. If Melia wanted Phulan close by, that meant she had a way to get closer to Azriel. If she could make herself known to Melia, she could potentially become one of those allies. As an ally, she may be able to find a way to free Azriel. She just had to be careful.

Yet despite her rising tide of excitement and hope, Kall did not hesitate to put a damper on things. He had stood before the door, arms crossed like a disgruntled nanny and said, “Not safe.”

“Posh.” Phulan had waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“If Azriel—”

“If Azriel was here,” Phulan cut him off, “you wouldn’t stop him. You wouldn’t question him. Why do you question her?”

Kall’s blue complexion flushed, and he eventually relented. To avoid Melia’s eyes and ears around the city, he could not join them in their journey across Algorath, so he stepped aside to let them pass.

Now, as Ariadne made her way through the streets and bustling markets for the fifth day in a row—filled with hundreds or even thousands of mages and magickless humans—she still felt that horrible twist in her gut. The bodies pressed in close. Too close.

She had not liked the markets since her return from the dhemon keep well over a year ago, and despite Phulan remaining by her side, she could not keep the anxiety at bay. Though Kall had been acting like an overprotective mother hen, perhaps he had been right. Each morning, she had woken and readied for the next outing, and each morning, he stood by the door with worry on his face.

But they had to be seen. Not Ariadne’s face, perhaps, but to make Melia notice them, someone needed to see Phulan in public with a stranger. Only then would she gain the next step needed to find Azriel.

They took advantage of their time by meeting with people Phulan trusted to discuss legal routes to pry Azriel from the Pits. Every single one of them gave them the same dismal answer: Once a prisoner goes to the Pits, there is nothing they can do. After all, it was considered a trial by combat. They accepted their fate the moment they entered a Desmo’s training grounds.

Still, Kall had made them promise to keep their outings minimal. Ariadne could not miss her lessons in the garden. So, by early afternoon, they returned to the house where Phulan would put up an illusion just strong enough to make it appear as though the stone garden was empty and silent. Drawing others’ attention meant ensuring they only saw what they wanted them to see.

It was on the sixth morning that a messenger arrived at Phulan’s door with an invitation to Melia’s chateau in the Suin District. Phulan slid the smooth, neatly decorated paper across the amethyst table to where Ariadne sat, enjoying her breakfast in the sunlight. The ink shone like diamonds.

“Tonight?” Ariadne frowned at the invitation. “After sunset?”

Phulan made a face. “It seems she wants to be…accommodating.”

“How does she know I am a vampire?” Ariadne looked from her to Kall as though he might hold the secret.

With a sigh, the mage took a seat and said, “Because I told her.”

Kall shot to his feet, shouting in the dhemon tongue. He pointed a finger at Phulan, sharp teeth bared, and then hauled Ariadne to her feet by the arm.

To her credit, Phulan did not flinch at Kall’s outburst. “You are overreacting. I wanted her to know.” Then she looked to Ariadne and said, “Please trust me as you’ve done so many times now. I’m not Melia’s friend or ally. She doesn’t know your name, just that you’re a visitor from Valenul.”

“Why would you want her to know?” Ariadne could not help the rising tide of nerves that wrapped around her gut and chilled her from the inside. “Would she not suspect me?”

Phulan shook her head. “According to all knowledge coming from Valenul, Ariadne Caldwell is mourning the death of her husband in Monsumbra.”

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