Page 88 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Something about her pain bothered him more than he confessed. Like him, however, she chose not to push the subject.

Yet despite the mindset they had when walking into training, the one thing she always struggled to do was grapple. No matter how many times she reminded herself the dhemon she rolled with was Kall—her Kall, who would rather die than hurt her, who would lay himself at her feet in repentance if he accidentally caused her harm even in practice—she could not stop feeling those phantom hands.

It always began fine. They stood, knees bent and circling one another until one or the other initiated the first contact. Usually it was Ariadne.

She grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. After building up her vampiric endurance, she had just enough strength to keep up with the horned fae. Learning to manipulate his body, however, was not the same. While he could sling her around like a ragdoll, she had to dig deep into herself and utilize her speed and techniques to compete.

Kall cupped the back of her neck and forced her closer. She resisted the heavy hand, her neck and core muscles tight as she took a step back. In the same movement, she slid an arm under his, reaching around to his back.

Before he could regain a better hold by forcing his own hand into the same position on her, she used her arm to shuck his high over her head. She sank into her thighs, the power there still so new and foreign to her, and scooped up his leg with her head tight against his belly. Pinning it between her knees, she hooked her free arm under the leg, and using the hand on his back, she grabbed his far shoulder. In a swift spin, Kall lost his balance and fell to the ground.

Ariadne did not hesitate. She could not. Too long to think, and she was dead. So she shoved the trapped leg to the ground, slid her knee over his thigh, and slammed her body onto his.

This was where it became dangerous. Compared to a dhemon, she was comically small. If she gave him even a moment to consider his next move, he could shove her off him with a single swipe of his arm. Though she could keep up in strength, she could not change her size.

She dug a knee into his diaphragm as he had taught her. The sudden pressure shoved the air from Kall’s lungs. Taking advantage of his scrambled thoughts, Ariadne slid her leg over his body so she straddled his chest, pinching him hard with her knees. She draped her body over his face, her lithe form fitting between his horns.

In a flurry of movement, she was rolling onto her back with one arm trapped by his. She cursed under her breath and wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing him to stay close as she gripped a horn and yanked his head down.

That was the moment she felt them. Not Kall’s hands holding her wrist to break her grip. Nor were they the dhemons who visited her in that cell. Not even Ehrun—who never visited her cell except to take her away for her lessons.

They were Loren’s.

In a flash, she stood before the General on the front steps of the Harlow Manor in the wake of her victory from a horseback race against Azriel. Loren sneered in her face, those sapphire eyes glinting with malicious pleasure as she writhed against his hold.

Then Kall let her go, and that quickly, it was done. The General disappeared like smoke in the wind. She was not on her family’s doorstep. She was lying in Phulan’s stone garden.

“You do better,” Kall remarked as she unhooked her feet and let him go. He pushed off the ground, stepping back to give her space. “Got farther.”

Ariadne nodded, a hot spike of frustration searing through her chest. Sitting up, she sighed and wiped the sweat from her forehead. It had been the third round that night, and she still could not finish. Between having a dhemon between her legs and his hands pinning her body when he gained the upper hand, she had difficulties not falling back into the dark memories.

“Thank you,” she said, staring at the ground. “You have been very patient with me.”

“You strong.” He dragged his own arm across his face, evading his own horns with practiced ease, and leaned against the house. “Take break. Drink water.”

She did as she was told and clambered to her feet, legs shaking, and made her way into the house where a pitcher of water waited for them.

But it was not Phulan who stood on the far side of the amethyst table. A tall figure loomed there, draped in a dark cloak. They pivoted at her approach and froze at the same time she reeled back, startled by the stranger’s presence.

Kall’s hands gripped her shoulders. “Sabharni, ydhom.”

The breath caught in her lungs rushed out at his reassurance. Easy, princess had become a common enough phrase he used with her. Too often, he needed to remind her that everything would be okay. This was no different.

And by the way he spoke, along with his own ease in the room, Ariadne knew she could trust his judgment. She could not, after all, compete with his sense of smell. If anything were out of the ordinary, he would be the one to know.

Then, the stranger removed their hood. In an instant, Ariadne flew around the table and threw herself into Madan’s arms. Her brother held her tight to him. She breathed in his familiar woodsy scent and buried her face against his chest. A mere fortnight had passed since she left Monsumbra, and yet it felt like an eternity.

“I missed you, too.” Madan chuckled. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“Why are you wearing that?” Ariadne plucked at the cloak as she pulled away. “It is night.”

He gave her a grim smile. “Can’t let anyone know I’m here.”

Melia. He couldn’t let anyone see him and report back to Melia that he was in the city. The moment he was seen, their cover would be blown, and the mage would never believe her again. Not if she had any reason to suspect he was still friends with Phulan.

“How’s training going?” His marbled eyes swept across her sweaty face, then up to Kall as though to monitor his friend’s reaction.

Wise, really. She was too keen on making everything seem fine all the time. But she spoke honestly. “It could be better. I am struggling with grappling.”

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