Page 106 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

A slow smile curled the corners of Loren’s mouth. This had all been such a long time coming. Since the appointment of a traitorous half-breed, he had known it was far past time to look into the law, as created by the first High Council. The General had always held almost as much power as the Princeps. What he had found, however, provided Loren with precisely the necessary legalities to do what needed to be done for the greater good of the kingdom.

“In the event that Valenul’s High Council no longer works for its people,” Loren quoted, the words a perfect melody in his mind, “and steps have been taken by the Princeps which no longer aligns with the needs of the kingdom, it is the General’s solemn duty to introduce Military Directive Fourteen.”

A long silence followed. Trev looked from Loren to the documents in his hand and back. “I do not doubt your reasoning, General, though I am curious as to what the Princeps has done to suffer such consequences.”

Loren stepped around the desk, forcing Trev to tilt his head back to look up at him. “I am glad you asked, and I believe it is long overdue for everyone to understand the severity of his actions.”

“Sir?”

“You heard what happened to the late Lord Governor Caldwell?”

“Of course.” Trev seemed to be racking his brain to figure out how this connected.

“Then you should know the truth of it.” Loren cocked his head with a sneer. “Azriel Tenebra did not die, though he should have. While rushing the Lord Governor’s inauguration, the Princeps placed a traitor of Valenul into a position of extreme power and allowed his daughter to succumb to the hypnosis of that filthy half-breed.”

Trev shook his head. “Apologies, sir, but—”

“Azriel Tenebra is a dhemon.”

The color drained from the Colonel’s face. He blinked long and hard as he took in the information. “And the Princeps knew?”

“It is my firm belief that he did.” Loren nodded to the documents in Trev’s hand. “Those documents hold a list of his betrayals to the people of Valenul that will be read aloud to the capitals of each Province and presented to the Lords across our fine kingdom. When Tenebra’s true identity came to light, I scheduled his execution, but the Princeps intervened.”

Now, a hard anger simmered in Trev’s eyes. He set his jaw and stood a little straighter. “Tenebra is alive?”

“Sent to the Pits of Algorath to fight out his sentence. Trial by combat, as it were.” Loren shook his head in disgust. “The idea came from Lord Governor Nightingale. Perhaps it is not so terrible; the Desmos of Algorath are ruthless, and his final nights will be dreadful. A fitting punishment, yet the Princeps overstepped, and immediate action should have been taken.”

Trev nodded, his mouth a thin line. “Then this is fitting, indeed. If the Princeps is so willfully ignorant of his own appointments, he is no longer a suitable leader. This is an abuse of power, to be sure.”

Loren had always known he liked Trev Wintre. This was one of the many reasons for it. He clapped the Colonel on the shoulder, then opened the door. “I will speak with the soldiers of the Hub. We will be locking down all of Valenul until further notice. No one travels to or from any of the provinces without my explicit permission.”

“Of course, General.”

The two of them exited the study together. As Trev made his way to the Hub’s messengers, he called for his company to be assembled. Loren watched him go, chest swelling as he took on the power of his new self-appointment. With his military behind him, no one could stop what was coming next.

Chapter 25

“With this blood,” Emillie repeated the High Priestess’s words, “I give unto thee…my body, soul, and heart…until my dying night and beyond.”

She stood on the same dais her sister had, beside the High Priestess of Keon and across from Alek Nightingale. Blood dripped from the slash across her palm into the same obsidian basin as Ariadne’s and Azriel’s. Unlike the former, Emillie did not wear a veil. She had despised the feeling of it the moment Revelie tried to pin it to her head. All she wore, then, was her ivory and periwinkle gown while her soon-to-be husband donned a coat of the deepest blue and cravat the same shade as her dress. His black boots shone in the dim light and matched his neat black trousers. He looked quite handsome with his long black hair tied back elegantly with a thin ribbon.

“With this blood,” Alek echoed, his clear voice just loud enough for the witnesses gathered to hear, “I give unto thee…my body, soul, and heart…until my dying night.”

His onyx eyes never left her face as he spoke, blood slipping down his palm to mix with her own in the basin. At least he kept up with their ruse of love, though she doubted her father believed it to be so. Whether or not he had figured out the truth behind their engagement, Emillie did not care. All she knew was that Alek was about to take her away from the man who had turned her existence into a living nightmare over the past month.

They interlaced their fingers at the command of the wizened Caersan woman as she wrapped their cut palms together with a long white cloth, binding them as one. “These wounds, created and healed together, bind your body as one in the eyes of the gods and all who bear witness tonight. The blood you spilled comes together in harmony.”

Without a veil encumbering her view of the ceremony, Emillie watched as the High Priestess dipped the tiny chalice into their combined blood. It spilled over the lip of the cup and dribbled down the sleeve of the Caersan’s gray robes. Her dark, milky eyes lifted to them in a flash as though sensing Emillie’s attention.

“This first taste of your life together,” the woman announced, raising the chalice to show it to the temple at large, “shall bind your soul as one. As you move forth into this next stage of your shared life, do not forget: what is done to one impacts the other. From the moment this touches your lips, your bond cannot be broken.”

Emillie accepted the cup first. She kept her gaze locked on her new husband as she tilted it back and let their combined blood coat her tongue. Of course she knew the sweet metallic tang of her own blood, but mixed with Alek’s? It took on entirely new notes. She knew what another Caersan man’s tasted like. With Nikolai as her Elit for so long, she had become accustomed to the flavor of his blood. Sharp and rich. Alek Nightingale almost tasted of dark cocoa and smoke.

Whatever he found of her own flavors, she could not tell. As the chalice returned to the basin and reached his lips, Alek’s expression gave no flicker of surprise.

“We arrive now,” the High Priestess said as she snatched back the cup from the Lord Governor, “at the end of our ceremony. We close with the witnessing of their first feed.”

The cloth was unwound from their hands. Both their cuts had sealed, a mere scar as a reminder until it, too, faded.

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