Page 22 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

By the time he reached the massive foyer with its tiled floor, circular walnut wood table at its center, and a dripping crystal chandelier, Lord Knoll stood patiently awaiting him. The tall, stately Caersan vampire wore the latest fashions with his navy tailcoat, white cravat, and tan trousers. He had a shaved head and umber skin, and his discerning jade eyes were kind as he sized up the last of the Caldwells.

“Good evening, Lord Knoll.” Madan stretched out his hand upon approach.

Knoll shifted the small stack of papers under his arm, then grasped his forearm and gave him a wan smile. “Lord Caldwell. Or should I say…Lord Governor Caldwell?”

“This way.” Madan gestured for the Lord to follow him to the study. The towering shelves and Azriel’s haphazard mess of paperwork made his chest tighten. This wasn’t his. None of this had been meant to fall to him, yet here he was, picking up the pieces where his brother could not. He closed the door behind the Caersan and continued, “Do tell me…what has become of my cousin? Last I heard, he had…disappeared.”

Even then, no one knew the truth of their relation. How could they? Only a handful were aware. Less had the power to do anything about it.

“A grievous report,” Lord Knoll said, taking a seat on the couch offered to him. “I am afraid he has been killed.”

Though Madan knew it to be a falsehood thrown together by Markus, his stomach twisted nonetheless. The very words were one of his greatest fears. To lose Azriel would be like losing his other arm, leaving him helpless to the whims of others.

Only Brutis’s calm reassurance in his mind eased the knot forming. His brother’s companion may have been too far away to speak to through their connected telepathy, but Razer would’ve reported back had anything happened.

He made a show of silent grief. Caersan vampires weren’t ones to express their more tender emotions. Playing the part required walking a fine line between cold and aloof or bursting with dismay. He settled for drawn brows and tight shoulders, mimicking Azriel’s quiet turmoil throughout the early weeks of the Season to the best of his ability.

“I am most apologetic for having to bear such news.” Knoll set the papers still in his hand on the low table between the couches.

Madan settled onto the cushions across from him. “How did it happen?”

“A dhemon attack.”

Of course. Blame the dhemons. Blame the fae lineage that ran through his brother’s veins—the very people who’d raised them both and whom he loved with his entire heart.

Whelan’s lazy grin from the bed flashed through his mind.

“And Lady Caldwell?” Madan made a point of sitting back on the couch to appear as though the news had quite literally stunned him.

“Praise Keon,” Lord Knoll said with a shake of his head, “she was spared and has returned home to the Princeps.”

Madan nodded. “Thank the gods for that.”

A moment of silence stretched between them before Lord Knoll cleared his throat and began sifting through the papers. “To business, I am afraid.”

“Yes.” Madan gave him a small smile. “To business.”

“As the late Lord Governor Azriel Caldwell had not yet finished writing his Will,” the Caersan explained, “we must look to the late Lord Governor Garth Caldwell’s Will for instructions. As it were…he named you second successor.”

Of course, Madan knew this as well. He’d been in the room when his grandfather had penned the succession list. It’d been short. Just the two names—the last of his line.

Another show of grief as Madan used his amputated arm to rub his forehead with a grimace. “I see.”

“I need your signature on these documents to be sent back to the Council.” Knoll pushed the papers across the table and pointed to several pages with blank spaces waiting to be filled with a curling name. “They will expect you to come to Laeton early next month to take your place.”

“Very well.” An excuse to see Ariadne. Perhaps he’d make the journey sooner in order to put any of her worries to ease. Azriel, after all, would not be executed. Razer had been kind enough to impart such information to Brutis before going silent again.

Then again, being sent to Algorath was a death sentence all on its own for Azriel. If Melia discovered him there…

Madan shook such thoughts from his mind and refocused. After collecting a pen and ink well, he settled in to sign the documents. He forced his hand to shake as though it were all so sudden and unexpected—as though his grief were too overwhelming to sketch his signature with confidence.

By the time he sent Lord Knoll on his way, Madan felt ready to keel over from exhaustion. Theater actors didn’t get nearly enough credit for what they did. Constantly hiding his emotions and how he truly felt for the incredulous story being told about Azriel put a damper on his plans to rejoin Whelan in bed.

No, his stomach growled at him. Food.

And so he brought a tray of fruits and cheese to his room to share with his lover.

Loren stared at the pamphlet of ivory paper. The curling letters, so carefully stamped by one of Laeton’s many presses, became a blur. Colonel Trev Wintre delivered the news and gossip report not long after dusk. He had not said much, which had been curious. Trev was not one to keep his thoughts to himself.

---