Page 49 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Instead, he stood before the tall glass doors along the far wall of the dining room and looked out at the garden beyond. A small man-made pond stretched straight out through the center of the greenery, a gravel path encircling it. Flowering bushes lined the walkways, and lanterns hung at equal intervals to light the way into the darkness. Though vampires didn’t need much illumination, the Caldwell Estate’s recent inhabitants didn’t have the luxury of night vision. At least not in the same way as theirs.

Madan had always struggled to wrap his mind around the idea of heat signatures. That his friends could see every flush of his body in the dark had been quite alarming as a child. He’d grown used to it over the years, though never enough to find comfort in it. Too often, Whelan had called him out for his body’s physiological reactions. Something he didn’t find to be fair in their relationship. Speed and strength were his gifts as a vampire. Though his hearing and vision were keen, he had no way to sense Whelan’s shift in moods. Fae senses—gods, dhemon senses—were far sharper. Even in the light, when his partner couldn’t see the rush of heat through his body, he could smell the shift from calm to aroused.

And damn if he hadn’t taken advantage of those gifts.

Madan shook the memories of Whelan pulling him away from others to indulge in him and refocused on the task at hand. He needed to prepare Ariadne to the best of his ability, and that meant telling her the truth of Azriel’s past. Even if she didn’t want to hear it. The dragons had been easier than he expected, but what came next would be more difficult for his brother’s wife.

So when his half-sister entered the dining room sometime later, he swept around the long table and pulled her into a hug. She returned the embrace, if briefly, and stepped back toward the dhemon who’d become her shadow in recent days. Kall had taken his task of training her seriously, even if he allowed her to wander off to the furthest reaches of the estate grounds. He’d also taken it upon himself to take over where Azriel left off to keep her safe.

“Let’s eat before you both leave.” Madan plopped into the chair at the head of the table, still not quite comfortable with staring down the long line of chairs before him. “We have much to discuss.”

Ariadne’s dark hair hung down her back in a long braid, her most recent hairstyle of choice to keep it out of her face during training. Her pale face already shone with sweat, her cheeks flushed red from exertion. To his credit, Kall’s dark complexion mimicked hers, proving he’d taken Madan’s words to heart and no longer allowed his sister to run the grounds alone.

“You are quite the Lord Governor.” Ariadne’s bright eyes swept across his clothes and landed on the hair curling around his ears.

Madan cocked a brow. “Thank you?”

She laughed, a rare sound, and spooned scrambled eggs onto her plate. Gone were her days of yogurt and fruit to break her fast. Protein had become a core food group since arriving in Monsumbra. “Azriel looked and acted the part, certainly, but you were born for it.”

Kall chuckled beside her. “Madan? Lead?”

Ariadne shot him a withering look. “It is his birthright.”

“We grew up in the equivalent of a war camp,” Madan explained, serving himself as Kall shook his head in disbelief. “I was the son of the enemy, kept alive only because of my mother’s blood and the Crowe’s good graces.”

“All the more reason,” Ariadne said, unperturbed, “for you to take your rightful place here and make the changes necessary to put an end to anyone growing up in such a place.”

“Ydhom right,” Kall said, the grin still playing on his lips, “you look like them.”

Madan rolled his eyes. “I am one of them. This is not why I had you both come in here.”

“We should leave soon,” Ariadne said. “We want to make use of the dark.”

“Has Bindhe arrived?” Madan looked to Kall. His dragon had been returning from the Irem Tundra and set to bring them both across the Keonis Mountains to avoid any confrontations with Ehrun or his cronies. Ariadne hadn’t taken to the plan at first, wanting to keep her feet firmly on the ground, but acquiesced once Whelan had pointed out how close they were to Auhla. Though Ehrun had abandoned the keep months prior, staying as far from the dhemon keep as possible remained her one motivation to attempt flying.

Kall ate his raw meat and fruits in silence for a moment, a glazed look shadowing his eyes as he communicated with his dragon through the vinculum. “Bindhe close.”

“Good.” Margot’s ancient voice carried before her as she strode into the dining room, her small form moving with slow patience.

Madan launched to his feet to help, but Whelan appeared behind her a second later to gently guide his grandmother into her seat at the table. The dhemon moved at her pace, his massive form comical beside her as he pushed her chair into place. Then he pecked Madan on the cheek and sat beside Margot.

“I fear I have not seen much of you, my dear.” Margot surveyed Ariadne with her sharp green eyes as Whelan diligently served her fruit and toast. “Have you enjoyed my home?”

Ariadne’s cheeks reddened, and it had nothing to do with her earlier exercise. “I have, my Lady, thank you.”

“Such formality.” The elder Caersan buttered her toast and thanked Whelan quietly for his assistance before turning back to the table at large. “I am disappointed to not have the time to get to know you as my granddaughter.”

After shooting Madan a glance, Ariadne refocused on Margot and smiled. “We will have that time once I free Azriel.”

Margot returned the smile. “Of course.”

“Why are we here, Madan?” Kall asked in the dhemon language, his words more fluent and clear. “We could be training before leaving.”

“Don’t be rude, Kall,” Whelan chided in the common tongue, not for the first time. “Not everyone can understand you.”

The dhemon grunted but didn’t reply. Instead, he glared at his friend and continued eating.

“I believe it’s necessary for Ariadne to understand what awaits her in Algorath,” Madan said simply, wishing he had his left hand to lie it on Whelan’s for support. His partner had had his own time imprisoned in the mage city, and though he never made it to the Pits thanks to the Crowe’s swift intervention, the prospect tormented him.

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