Chapter 31 #3
“As you know,” the dhemon explained, “I sent Sasja to Algorath for one reason: to get her hands on liquid sunshine.”
Azriel grumbled under his breath, “And you left her there to rot.”
“Sabharni, Rholki,” Madan whispered, his marbled eyes shining with piqued interest. He laid his hand over the end of his amputated arm and pressed his fingers into his skin. “Let him speak.”
“As you both know,” Ehrun continued, nodding to Madan and Whelan, “she did not obtain the potion, but she did obtain the recipe and the name of a mage willing to make it. A mage who has experience making it.”
Azriel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What does this have to do with the battle?”
“The goal is to kill Loren Gard, correct?” Ehrun looked around the table to where everyone nodded in agreement. “Then every single soldier we have should have a dagger poisoned by liquid sunshine, to be used only if they get close enough to cut him.”
It was Madan who cocked his head and asked, “Have you contacted this mage?”
“Contacted?” Phulan cut in. “She’s in our camp as we speak with the liquid sunshine already made.
” At the ripple of shock that went through the tent, she glowered at them and added, “Did you truly believe that Paerish and I chose those particular prisoners at random? I made certain to grab the ingredients while in Algorath.”
Ehrun nodded his thanks to the mage. “I have additional fire spice and sun oil, if more is needed.”
“Hold on. I am not certain I agree with this,” Ariadne said.
Madan snorted. “Loren Gard had no issue with poisoning me. I say we do it.”
At that, Ariadne sighed. She bit her lip and looked up at Azriel, sending a surge of uncertainty through him. This was her way of seeking support, but he was in no position to give it—not if it meant they had a mere papercut’s chance of killing that bastard.
“If it keeps you safe,” Azriel whispered to her, “then we must look at every possibility. You wanted him here for his strategy and this is it. I don’t disagree with him.”
Silence stretched through the tent, tense and cold.
Azriel’s heart thundered in his chest as Ariadne stared at Ehrun for a long moment.
The dhemon at the sharp end of her glare didn’t flinch or even look away.
He stared back and damn him if he didn’t look like Kall in that instant, pushing his will upon them from the Underworld.
“So be it,” Ariadne said. “Have the blades prepared as soon as possible.”
Ehrun tilted his horns at her in a silent apology before murmuring his gratitude. “Lhienska lhon, Yvhaltrinja.”
Veron Knoll held up a hand as Azriel looked around the tent to move forward. “Fire spice and sun oil? Those are the ingredients for liquid sunshine?”
Raising her brows in interest, Phulan turned to the Lord. “A couple of main ingredients, yes. There are magical components as well, to my knowledge, that make it more effective. Why does this interest you?”
Umber face paling a shade, he blinked at a spot on the table before him in astonishment. “Put together, could those two items create a sort of poison to vampires?”
“Of what importance is this?” Azriel asked, an uneasy feeling gripping his chest.
“To answer your question,” Phulan said, “I believe you are correct. Combined, fire spice and sun oil would likely cause severe illness if not death, if consumed too often over time. We are not attempting to kill Loren over a meal, however.”
A long silence stretched between them before Knoll turned his horrified gaze to Azriel and Madan. “I gifted Garth Caldwell Algorathian wine with fire spice and sun oil, which he claimed to love despite his wife’s distaste for it.”
“Veron,” Oren whispered in shock, his long fangs on display in disbelief.
Azriel stared at him, unable to summon the words to express his confusion and bewilderment.
It’d been months since he thought of his grandfather and the suspicious circumstances of his death.
The illness had come on quickly and taken Garth to the next life within weeks.
Could it have been due to his own folly?
To Azriel’s ever-growing gratefulness, Madan turned to Veron and shook his head. “You did not know, and now is not the time for this conversation. Whatever caused our grandfather’s death is not your fault.”
Gripping Azriel’s hand hard, Ariadne added, “We need to focus on the present.”
Lord Knoll nodded, but stood nonetheless. “If you will excuse me, I need a moment to compose myself.”
With that, the Caersan Lord exited the tent.
A heavy silence remained in his wake as those who knew Garth grappled with the latest in his death.
Azriel had never been saddened by his grandfather’s end, aside from the lost opportunity for him to continue fighting for peace with the dhemons.
For his friend to have potentially been the cause?
He could not fathom the depths of Veron’s newfound grief.
“An unfortunate turn of events,” Lord Theobald whispered, peeling his eyes from where his friend had disappeared.
He cleared his throat and sat a little straighter.
Jaw set with determination, he asked, “What are we to do with the prisoners during this time? We have dragged along with us Caersan officers, soldiers, and even Lord Governor Felix Dodd and his wife—”
“Lord Dodd is with us?” Ariadne asked, shifting forward in her seat. The shift in her demeanor was so sudden, he feared whiplash. “Why was I not informed?”
Azriel cocked his head at the Caersan Lord. “I also was unaware of his official arrest. This should have been reported back to me immediately.”
“It was done during the ritual,” Oren explained, “and everyone involved was a bit preoccupied. After that, with our move to Central Province, we did not have the opportunity.”
Before Azriel could inquire further, Ariadne stood. “I wish to speak with him immediately. I believe he would be a valuable ally in the coming battle.”
Madan frowned. “I am not certain—”
“His only child is being held prisoner by a madman,” Ariadne snapped. “If there is anything I know of Lord Dodd, it is that he loves Camilla more than anything in this world and he would do anything to keep her safe.”
“Why, then, would he leave her to govern Eastwood?”
Ariadne fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “That is something I wish to understand. I believe Revelie and I should speak with him together.”
Standing beside his wife, Azriel scanned each face at the table. “I believe we have a plan of action.” He looked to his brother. “Decide how we will proceed to the Hub for the attack and report back to me. I will be accompanying my wife. Good evening, everyone.”
With that, Azriel held out his arm to Ariadne and guided her from the tent.
They walked through the bustling camp saying nothing until they came to the section of large tents delegated to prisoners of war.
Rusans who’d joined them to fight back against oppression stood outside as armed guards, most of whom were farmers and who Caersans would consider to be low merchants.
They bowed as Azriel walked by with Ariadne until they reached the entrance to the smallest in which the few high-ranking vampires would be held.
“Bring out Lord Dodd,” Azriel instructed the Rusan nearest him, whose face turned ashen at the sight of him. Yes, they still had a long way to go before either side would be comfortable.
Nonetheless, the Rusan nodded and disappeared into the tent before reemerging with the tall blond Caersan man, his russet eyes the template from which Camilla was made. Felix Dodd. Once a Lower Councilman for Central Province before taking up the mantle once held by Caldwells alone.
Ariadne stumbled through a half-curtsy before remembering that it was she to whom the man before them should bow. Her cheeks flushed in the moonlight as she tilted her chin to look down her nose at the Caersan before her. “Lord Dodd.”
Felix Dodd did not miss a beat as he bowed low to them both. “I am humbled to be in the presence of the King and Queen.”
“A Lord Governor,” Azriel said, motioning for him to straighten and face them. “I would have expected the Central Province, not Eastwood.”
“Walk with us,” Ariadne suggested and gestured for them to move away from the tent.
One of the many things she knew better than him was sharpness of Caersan ears and their fondness for gathering any form of intel.
Only once they had moved a sufficient distance away did Ariadne ask, “Why did you go there?”
“I asked for Central,” Dodd admitted, smoothing back his disheveled golden hair. “But when a militant king orders you to take a position that was meant to keep your family safe…you do it.”
Ariadne shook her head. “But Camilla.”
Steps faltering, Felix swung wide eyes down to her. “When I heard of your…abduction—”
“Is that what he’s calling it?” Azriel snarled. If there was ever a time for her disappearance from Laeton to be called anything of the sort, it most certainly was not then. A year ago? Certainly. But not now.
Before Felix could reply, Ariadne cast him a woeful look to silence him and said, “The man who was rescuing Camilla was killed, and she was taken back. Revelie and I hardly escaped.”
True fear shone in Lord Dodd’s gaze at that. He gaped at her for a long moment before swallowing hard and saying, “I did not want to leave her but I feared retaliation upon her would be severe if I did not acquiesce. My plan was to return for her as soon as I was able.”
“I fear Camilla is in more danger now than ever before,” Ariadne admitted, peeling her arm from Azriel’s and taking the Lord’s hand in hers. “You have a gift, Lord Dodd, and we need it now to keep her safe.”
At first, he shook his head, eyes welling with tears. “I have no power here.”
“But you do,” Azriel interjected, drawing both their attention.
He had a feeling he knew where this was headed: send Lord Dodd as a messenger to Loren and gain inside knowledge not unlike the intelligence gathering Oren Theobald had been conducting in Eastwood.
“You have a silver tongue like none I have ever heard before and your ability to sway others is unmatched—not through brute force, but through the heart.”
Nodding in agreement, Ariadne added, “You have loved and protected Camilla through all her stages of life. She needs you.”
“But what can I possibly do?” Dodd looked between them, clearly at a loss.
“There are dozens of Caersan soldiers in those tents.” Ariadne looked back the way they came before refocusing on the man in front of her. “We need their numbers, their strength, and their knowledge of what is to come.”
Understanding dawned on Azriel. She did not wish to use him to go straight to Loren. He would gain them more allies. More fighters. More men willing to put their lives on the line for something greater than tyranny.
“What?” Again Felix gaped at her. “But what about Camilla?”
Obviously, the Lord had had the same line of thinking as Azriel, but this plan of action would take far less time than attempting to uncover Loren’s plots. Ariadne thought in the here and now, not the long game.
“Loren will not kill her outright,” Ariadne assured him. “He will use her to draw me to him and it will work.”
Azriel’s heart stuttered. “Wait—”
Ignoring him, Ariadne continued, “I want you to convince those men that they will have peace once this is finished…and that the one who tallies the most kills will marry Camilla.”
“You…you want me to sell my daughter’s hand to a soldier?” Lord Dodd stammered.
Ariadne sucked in a deep breath even as Azriel’s mind still reeled with what was happening.
He had never seen her act like this. The confidence she wore and her own vicious use of the Society’s standards to garner a victory was startling.
Her eyes blazed like an ocean set aflame, for she knew she was winning this argument.
“Absolutely not.” Ariadne gave the Lord’s hand a squeeze. “I want you to sell your daughter’s hand for an army.”