Page 91 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

To his endless surprise, Ariadne laughed through her wince. She gave Kall a sheepish smile. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

“I know, ydhom.”

Madan rocked back on his heels to look up at the dhemon. “How often does this happen?”

Yet Kall merely shrugged, as if that didn’t make Madan more anxious about leaving them again in a couple of nights. Until then, he’d make the most of his time hiding within the confines of Phulan’s home. Teaching Ariadne what he knew as a vampire against larger adversaries sat at the top of that list.

Avoiding any questions about the status of Valenul and her sister, however, would prove to be the most difficult.

Chapter 21

Lord Edley Praad of the Central Province’s Lower Council held the next ball of the Season purely for the entertainment of his wife, Lady Victoria Praad. Emillie had known the family for her entire life, with both Caersans only being a few decades younger than her father. They had always been kind to her, and she always felt comfortable in their home.

The pale pinks, blues, and purples of the foyer, parlor, and ballroom respectively always felt like a warm afternoon at the height of Spring. Lady Praad was, by far, the best model she had had during her youth for how to keep a house. Each room had the Caersan woman’s touch, from the arrangement to the colors.

Entering the Praad Estate felt different as an engaged woman, however. Emillie felt the familiar pressure of expectations pushing down on her everywhere she looked. Each room held Caersans who eyed her and spoke in whispers as though judging whether or not she would live up to their expectations. To the expectations of the entire Society.

She never could, and it was that which made her palms sweat as she searched for someone—anyone—she could find solace in. Though Revelie promised to be in attendance, Emillie knew full well that it would be difficult to find her. She kept to herself, rarely dancing or entertaining potential suitors, and found far more enjoyment in speaking with Caersan clients and Rusan friends. Camilla, on the other hand, would likely be finding any vacant room to indulge in whoever caught her fancy for the evening.

Therefore, she was left with only one other she hoped to see—the Caersan she never imagined she would search for amongst the crowd of beauties such as Hyacinth Hooke. Yet even Lord Governor Alek Nightingale could not be found no matter how many times she rotated between the ballroom and parlor where the men loitered.

Instead, Emillie found herself in the sitting room with Caersan women for whom she did not care. The least of which were those who approached her first.

Lady Dierdre Kolson, the wife of a Lower Councilman, had a ghostly white complexion and shiny brown hair. Her round green eyes watched the ballroom crowd for prey and found Emillie alone. She nudged her best friend, Lady Belina Fletcher, another Councilman’s wife, and they closed in like vultures.

Emillie groaned and eyed the door, too far for her to escape. Before they could comment on her disappointment, she plastered a sweet smile and turned toward them. “Good evening, Ladies. How are you faring?”

Like Revelie, Belina’s silky black hair and tawny skin harkened back to the years before the Mage Wars when desert and plains mages married frequently. Her sparkling teal eyes only underscored how few generations had passed since the curse had been placed on their ancestors. She wore a stunning dress that highlighted her irises and shimmered in the candlelight as she swept around Emillie and said, “Quite well, future Lady Nightingale. And yourself? How have the wedding plans been coming along?”

“Quite well, indeed,” Emillie said, pointedly using Belina’s own words. “Have you received your invitations?”

“A mere week away,” Dierdre chirped. “You must be thrilled.”

For a long moment, Emillie let the statement hang. These two, Dierdre in particular, were the ones who pushed the rumors about the dangers of Alek Nightingale. Though she continued to feel those twinges of panic when she considered the truth behind them, her personal experiences with Alek assuaged her fears.

“I am honored to have caught Lord Nightingale’s attention,” Emillie agreed. “Speaking of whom, I must find him—”

“Nonsense!” Belina looped her arm through Emillie’s and steered her further into the sitting room. “He will be here soon enough. Indulge us until then.”

Once they had successfully wrangled Emillie away from her exit, Dierdre’s wide eyes glinted with mischief. “We are so very curious as to where your sister has been these last few weeks.”

Emillie’s heart sank. The corners of her mouth tightened as she forced a small smile. Keeping her thoughts and feelings off her face was always a trial. The last thing she needed was gossip swirling around Ariadne any more than there already was.

“She has been in Monsumbra,” Emillie said, keeping to the story her father had laid out before the previous ball for moments just like this. “She sent word that she will return by the end of the month.”

Belina’s eyebrows shot up. “Your own sister will miss your wedding?”

It was like being punched in the gut one after the other. Emillie gave her a single nod. “She is still in mourning. After everything she has gone through, I respect the space she needs.”

“But the new Lord Governor Caldwell was just in Laeton,” Dierdre said as she picked up a glass of wine from a passing servant. Belina followed suit, but Emillie waved them on. She needed her wits about her.

“Ariadne was with the Dowager Caldwell,” Emillie said, pulling whatever she could from her chest of knowledge. “She is an Original and has so much wisdom. I am quite envious of my sister for having this opportunity.”

Dierdre gave her a pout. “We have missed her. Please pass along our well-wishes next time you write.”

Of course they missed Ariadne. They missed gleaning all they could about her and weaving falsities to spread amongst the Society. They missed finding any way to taint her name to make themselves and their husbands appear all the better. After the turmoil at the beginning of the Season, Emillie would not be surprised by it.

“Will she be rejoining the Season?” Belina pressed. “Perhaps she will be searching for a new husband, though I am surprised Lord Madan Caldwell has not offered his hand.”

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