Chapter 12
Loren slid his fangs out from Hyacinth Hooke’s neck, her rich blood thrumming through his veins.
The injuries from two nights ago had long since healed thanks to his Caersean lineage, yet the desire for the vitality of a debutante from his Court never felt greater.
As such, he had called upon nearly every single one of the young vampires.
They had each been more than happy to aid their King after learning of the attack on the castle.
Hyacinth stood from Loren’s lap, the twin puncture wounds in her throat already closing.
White hair braided back to her crown had thick coils haloing her beautiful ebony face, and her vivid eyes sparkled.
The neckline of her sage green dress blossomed with the crimson that dripped from where he had bitten her, and there was something arousing about the way he had marked her.
There was a reason that feeding between two vampires had always been overseen by a Caersan woman’s closest male relative until marriage. Until, of course, Loren changed the status quo for his own gain.
“Will you be needing anything else, Your Majesty?” Hyacinth’s sultry voice had Loren aching to show her just how amazing a feeding could be.
But he had a reputation to uphold, and with her brother an officer in his army, the last thing he needed was to create distress amongst his troops. After all, whoever controlled the military controlled the kingdom. Loren had learned that firsthand.
So Loren shook his head. “That will be all, Miss Hooke. I am most appreciative of your concern.”
“Please call on me again,” Hyacinth said with a low, busty curtsy, “should you need anything more from me.”
Was that an invitation? If she was as interested in him as he was in her, perhaps he would take her up on it. He needed a release with such a beautiful Caersan of worth.
After all…he should have been satisfied in such a way on his wedding night.
Ariadne, however, had different plans, and he would see to her paying for her attempt to make him look like a fool.
This was just the latest in her long list of transgressions.
She would learn to kneel before him—he was determined.
“Thank you,” Loren said with a nod to Hyacinth, who awaited his leave. “You may go for now.”
With that, Hyacinth departed in a swish of sage skirts and a sway to her hips. Oh, yes. That had most definitely been an invitation.
Sitting back on his throne, Loren sighed. Any sign of the battle that had ensued the morning following his nuptials had disappeared from his body. Not a bruise or scar remained. All he had left were questions.
“Nikolai.” Loren did not shift to search for the King’s Sword. Instead, he waited for the familiar sound of his best friend’s armor as he shifted into a bent knee position before him.
“Your Majesty.”
Loren surveyed his guard, the same brown eyes he had always known watching him with carefully reserved caution.
They had not exchanged more than a handful of words since the attack on the castle, as Loren had not left his suites in the nights following.
Rather than meet with his military council right away, he needed to search his own memories and determine which information would be most valuable to them.
The one thing he had made sure to have collected were the few scraps of paper Ariadne had hidden in her dress. In his blind fury, he had made the grave mistake of burning the book she had come to steal and shredded the ancient pages she had managed to tear out.
Now he pulled the carefully reassembled bits from a box beside his throne and studied them again. “My wife attempted to abscond with some pages from a book.”
“It appears that way,” Nikolai agreed, taking Loren’s proclamation as leave to stand at the foot of the dais. He did not, however, look at the salvaged paper.
“Tell me,” Loren continued, “how those beasts were able to break into my castle, enchant your Queen, and steal her away. Again.”
Nikolai opened his mouth to speak, appeared to think better of it, then said, “May I speak freely, Your Majesty?” When Loren waved him onward, the King’s Sword continued, “If I may be so bold… She did not appear to have been stolen. Her blatant attack against Your Majesty makes it appear as though she were acting of her own free will.”
“I disagree.” Loren sat forward again, leaning heavily on his elbows. “I believe it all to have been a ploy by the dhemons to use her naivety against her. You saw her that night in the forest—she was desperate to escape their hold.”
A nod from Nikolai. “Perhaps. Or perhaps she is a better actress than either of us could have predicted.”
“If there is one thing I know about my wife,” Loren rumbled, “it is that she is nothing short of terrified of those monsters. They have taken control of her mind.”
Of this, Loren was absolutely certain. He had seen her the nights following her abduction and subsequent rescue—seen the ghost they had made of her after that long week in the mountains. Most of all, he had seen the fear at the Vertium ball.
The Vertium ball.
That had been a pivotal point for Ariadne Harlow.
Only now did Loren see and understand the connection.
The Spring equinox had been the night Azriel Tenebra was introduced to the Harlow sisters as their newest personal guard.
It was also when everything about Ariadne had changed.
She grew more and more impudent in the weeks following. More and more daring.
Less and less frightened of vampires’ greatest enemy.
The longer Loren considered it, the more it made sense. His mother and her gossiping band of Caersan women had been correct in one thing: Ariadne had some strong fae magic controlling her.
“There was a moment,” Loren said after a beat, “I cannot recall. Ariadne ran from me. I pinned her, then…nothing. Why did I awake on the floor in the midst of a battle?”
Nikolai cocked his head but never looked away. “By the time I reached you, Your Majesty, you were unconscious. Dhemons had already arrived, and I had just enough time to prevent them from delivering the killing blow.”
“An odd sequence of events,” Loren said with a frown. “What has become of the castle guards on duty that night? I wish to have them questioned along with the one who did not get taken, Miss Dodd.”
“At once, of course.” Nikolai nodded. “Miss Dodd has been confined to her rooms since the night of the incident. She has been most cooperative, and, I am certain, willing to assist in your endeavors to uncover the truth.”
“Most excellent.” Easing back against his throne, Loren held out the scrapped paper. “Have the royal historian analyze these. I wish to know what the dhemons want.”
Nikolai took the pages and bowed. “At once, Your Majesty.”
Before the King’s Sword could depart, Loren held up a hand. “Draft a report of what happened that night. I wish for our military and the people of Valenul to know of the Queen’s kidnapping as well as the attempt on my life.”
Something flashed in Nikolai’s eyes before he bowed again. “Do you not wish to question the castle guards before we send out a report?”
The corners of Loren’s mouth curled into a genuine smile. “You are my most loyal friend and ally. I trust you above all others.”
“I am honored.” Nikolai placed his fist over his heart, then turned on his heel and exited the throne room.
Whether or not Loren’s assumptions regarding Ariadne’s allegiances were true, he knew one thing for certain: he would have Ariadne by his side again, and he would teach her to be the doting wife she was always meant to be.
Teatime no longer felt the same for Ariadne.
The nightly ritual of gathering in the Harlow Estate’s drawing room with Emillie and, on occasion, friends had the same odd fog about it as a distant dream.
Settling into the couch cushions in Auhla’s makeshift library alongside Emillie, Revelie, and Margot made the entire tradition seem almost a game of make-believe.
Still, they did their best. The kettle of tea sat at the center of their large dhemon-made mugs and a plate of fresh rolls alongside a small scoop of butter. Both had been made by the lycan, Ben, who had taught Ariadne to knead for their Noctium celebration.
The thought made Ariadne’s heart ache. A lump rose in her throat as Emillie offered her a small plate with a buttered roll. She took it and looked away. It was the feeling of a small, soft hand sliding over hers that brought her attention back.
“Grieve.” Margot’s voice, quiet and strong, was all she could make out as the tears blurred her vision.
“Ari?” Revelie’s voice. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, but Emillie is who answered, “She lost a dear friend not too long ago.”
Revelie inhaled sharply, having heard the story from Ariadne during their time together at the old Caldwell manor. “Kall?”
“He often cooked for us,” Margot explained, giving Ariadne’s hand a firm squeeze. “It has been a great adjustment for us all and a painful loss for many.”
“Let us speak of something else.” Ariadne brushed the tears away and set the plate with her roll on the low table beside her mug. The last thing she needed was to dwell on that horrible time.
“Of course.” Emillie smiled at her sadly. With her own recent loss, Ariadne was certain her sister empathized.
Revelie poured the tea into their mugs, mint and lavender wafting up from the steaming liquid. With no sugar to speak of and the little dairy reserved for the kitchens, they accepted their individual cups as they were.
Once composed, Ariadne turned to her friend. “Do you think Camilla is going to be alright?”
“If there is one thing I know of Loren,” Revelie said with a scoff, “it is that he will want to use every advantage he has. He is no fool in thinking Camilla would be a prize.”
Ariadne could not stop her gaze from flickering to the Caersan’s hand with her missing finger.