Page 117 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

As Emillie made her way back to her suite, she could not help but think of how this day had turned out very differently from what she had anticipated. Not only did she expect to consummate her marriage with Alek, but the last thing she imagined happening was finding Kyra so head over heels for her, too.

Chapter 28

Ariadne hardly slept after the Pits. The short, brutal fight replayed in her mind again and again as she tossed and turned in the low-lit room, her heart thundering each time she pictured that fae stalking towards Azriel. If that prisoner had not wanted his death to be slow and dramatic, she would not have a husband. If that prisoner had thrown his dagger or slid the blade across Azriel’s throat the moment he grabbed the horn…

She could not breathe. Her stomach roiled at the thought.

Worse, she would not have been able to do anything about it. She had been helpless. No matter how fast vampires could move, it would not have been enough to stop a killing blow.

To avoid dwelling on it alone, she dragged herself out of bed, pulled on a long silk robe of dusty sage, and navigated to the door with the help of the blue fire sconces. She touched the Noct still hanging at her sternum and cracked open the door to find the sitting room windows obscured. The last of the day’s sunlight trickled under the drapes, but the ceiling remained open to the evening sky.

She stood there in the final glows of day for a long moment, thankful she had another chance to free her husband—not to collect his body from the Pits.

Before she could dwell on such thoughts for long, she turned and made her way to the kitchen. She hung the kettle in the hearth and spooned the dry mix of chai spices from a glass jar into a cup. When it came to the food, Ariadne never wanted to leave Algorath. The chai, far more flavorful than any tea she had tasted in Valenul, warmed her belly in the best of ways.

Far more than that, she could get used to a simple life like the one Phulan had crafted for herself. Ariadne did not need the grand layout of a manor or to be the lonely wife of a Lord managing their estate. After losing Darien, she had wished to grow old alone, making her own way in the world. Azriel had changed all that.

Perhaps now she had a second chance at something similar. Once she freed him from Melia, he could not return to Valenul. After being arrested, he would have no home or place there. Ariadne could settle down somewhere new with him. Or maybe they could travel Myridia. They could wander from the Irem Tundra all the way to the Vol Isles.

But he would not want to leave Madan, just as she would not want to stray far from Emillie. With the dragons to take them where they wish, they could stay close to them both somewhere in the Keonis Mountains. After all, they had not heard much of anything about Ehrun’s whereabouts. Perhaps he had succumbed to his wounds after all.

Unfortunately, she doubted he would have perished so easily. Eventually, he would be back, ready to haunt them and seek his revenge.

Ariadne poured the steaming water into the cup and stirred as she walked to the dining room. The fragrant spices drifted up to her on waves of steam. She inhaled deeply, wishing to hold onto them for a little while longer. All too soon, she would not have them again, just as everything she grew to love disappeared from her life.

A sharp knock at the door halted Ariadne just before she reached the table. She turned toward the entrance to the house and waited. Phulan did not seem to be home, and Kall had yet to wake, so she changed direction to the entrance.

She was not so foolish as to throw the door wide to whoever stood on the far side after seeing the way Melia looked at her last night. Instead, she cracked it open a few inches and peered out at the man on the step.

“My mistress, Desmo Melia Tagh, requests your attendance for a midnight tea.” The man, dressed in loose trousers the color of adobe that tapered to his ankle and a matching tunic, gave her a quick, unpracticed bow. It was not the normal greeting or farewell in Algorath, and his execution underscored that. When he straightened, he asked, “Shall I tell her to expect you?”

Ariadne stared at him for a long moment, uncertain what to say. When she found her voice, all she could say was, “I am not the mistress of this house. I could pass on your invitation?”

He shook his head. “This is for you alone, not Phulan.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, twisting her free fingers into the hem of her robe. It would be rude to decline, and this might be her only chance to get Melia alone. A hazy plan took shape in her mind. “I will be there.”

“Excellent.” He smiled and disappeared into the early night.

She shut the door behind him. This was dangerous. The way Melia watched her at the Pits made her wholly believe she had been placed at the top of the list of enemies in Algorath.

It did not matter. She had trained for this. While against an opponent of strength and speed like Kall, she might falter, but if she could get near enough to the Desmo and catch her off guard…

Yes. That was what she would do.

Ariadne sat at the amethyst table, lost in her own thoughts, when she saw a short note in scrawling script across from her. She pulled it closer, and her heart sank.

Went shopping. Be back soon. Don’t leave the house.

Phulan

As though the mage knew her plans. What had she said when they first met? She was plagued with visions of the future. Did she know what would happen if Ariadne chose to accept the invitation?

Crumpling the note and abandoning her chai, Ariadne left the dining room to feed it to the kitchen fire before hurrying to her room to change. If she did not leave before Kall dragged himself out of bed, there was no way she would make it out. He would never permit her to see Melia alone.

To her relief, Kall did not wake before she had changed into a flowing blue gown that hid the dagger she strapped to her thigh, slipped on her shoes, and left silent as a ghost through the front door. She remembered the way to Melia’s well. She had made a point of memorizing it in case she ever needed to access the mage on her own. It benefitted her well as she made her way across Algorath to the Suin District, braiding her hair back as she went.

By the time she reached Melia’s chateau, it was almost midnight. The servant at the front door let her in without question and led her through the entry to a familiar room with an arrangement of stout furniture. A doorway to the left led into the dining room where she had first seen Azriel so very out of sorts—just before he had been led upstairs to—

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