Chapter 42 #2
Plucking through the web of connected consciousness, Ariadne grumbled when she found her way blocked to Azriel’s mind.
After they had promised to not keep secrets from one another, they had been quite good at upholding their word.
At least for the most part. Shielding her from whatever was happening now was not like him.
“You have all been invited here to form the foundations of Valenul’s future,” Azriel said, raising his voice so it carried around the room with ease. “But before we begin, I believe it is necessary to understand why I have invited the man appointed to such a powerful position by the previous King.”
All eyes shifted to Trev, who paled a shade before sitting up a little more in his seat.
Ariadne studied him, remembering just how bawdy he could be at balls.
Between that and his being one of Loren’s personal friends, she did not appreciate his presence, though she trusted her own husband’s judgment of the situation more than anything.
“When I was named General,” Wintre said, “I believed what Loren Gard was doing was correct. I carried out orders, as any good soldier, and did not think twice about them.”
Ariadne glared openly at him.
“I admit it was not until Nikolai Jensen approached me that I even realized the damage I was doing to the kingdom I love so much.” Wintre swallowed hard, but held his head high nonetheless.
The mention of Nikolai, however, piqued Ariadne’s interest. “It was he who began a quiet dissent amongst the soldiers in my ranks. I looked to stifle them at first, then made to expose Nikolai for his treason.”
Weeks of wondering. Weeks of knowing that somehow, some way, Nikolai was an innocent who died in the attempt to quell Loren’s hatred. Still, hearing it now made Ariadne’s arms prick with goosebumps.
“When he finally spoke to me directly,” Wintre continued, “I could not ignore the signs of madness in Loren. I had turned a blind eye to what was right in front of me. Only then—and I fear it was far too late—did I understand what Nikolai attempted: to eradicate Loren’s hold on the military long enough to put an end to his reign. ”
“And how did you do that?” Ariadne asked before she could stop herself.
Wintre found her gaze and held it. “I stopped following orders. Do you believe it was luck that no reinforcements from Waer or Notten arrived at the Hub?”
The implication stayed Ariadne’s tongue.
While the number of soldiers they faced at the Hub had been vast, she knew as well as anyone that they never once faced the true might of the Valenul army.
Had others arrived, they very well would have witnessed far more destruction.
As it were, the casualties on both sides were oddly minimal, and the speed at which Valenul soldiers surrendered was questionable.
“I ordered the surrender long before Loren was proclaimed dead,” Wintre said. “After the order was given to retreat to the Hub, I knew there would be no more hiding.”
Madan sat forward, leaning onto his elbows. “And why should we trust that you would not betray your future leaders?”
An excellent question, but one that Ariadne knew to be purposeful and leading. Trev had just exposed himself as a traitor to the King who gifted him immense power. Why would anyone want him free to do so again?
“Because I believe in a Valenul that is not plagued by war.” Wintre shrugged. “There is nothing I can say to convince anyone, but my actions can. I do not wish to remain a soldier. Instead, I hope to lend an understanding of the military to you all as you decide what is best for our future.”
The words were not meaningless. Rather than insert himself amongst those declaring what would become of the kingdom, Trev sought to step back and counsel them. An intriguing proposition.
When no one spoke, Azriel sat back in his chair. “If anyone wishes to speak against Wintre, please do so now. Otherwise, I welcome him to join our discussions.”
Even Ariadne could not speak against him. Not after all he revealed. Though some shifted in their seats and whispered amongst themselves, no one dissented.
Azriel nodded to Wintre and continued, “Then we shall begin. While it would be simple to return to the way it was with the Lords controlling the lands, I have found through conversations with all of you that no one finds that to be the best course of action.”
Lord Knoll nodded as he looked around the room. “Lord Theobald and I proposed to the Dhemon King that we explore options that allow all citizens to participate in governing, no matter their status.”
The meeting took hours—far longer than any Ariadne had previously experienced.
Every single person in attendance was called on to voice their opinions, gain insight into their particular situations, and learn from one another.
The Lords, with their money and power, leaned in favor of returning to a form of oligarchy.
The Rusans, led by a shockingly vocal Kyra, pushed back with the insistence that they would not be forced to lower themselves for the comfort of others.
By the end and after much bickering, only one proclamation had been agreed upon: neither Eastwood nor Waer would be a part of Valenul any longer.
The former was to be relinquished by the vampires and returned to the dhemons and under the official rule of Azriel and Ariadne.
The latter would become its own realm under the jurisdiction of none other than the Lycan Queen, Luce, and her mate, Emillie Nightingale, under the agreement to allow free passage for dhemon pilgrimages to Anwenja’s garnet tomb.
Both would be open for vampires to remain if they so chose, with the understanding that they would be residing in new territories with new laws and residents.
It took a month of meetings to determine the future of Valenul and the new kingdoms within the Keonis Valley, bringing them well into the middle of winter before all negotiations concluded.
Ariadne watched in shock and awe as the Caersans and Rusans learned to work together in developing an entirely new government.
After successfully splitting off the territory for the dhemons and lycans, they remained only to ensure no one grew too power-hungry in the midst of their discussions.
Then, on a snowy evening in the middle of winter, none other than the quiet and charming Lord and Lady Teaglow were publicly announced as Valenul’s new King and Queen—positions that acted more as a head of state alongside an assembly of vampires that would be chosen by the newly-formed districts across the kingdom.
Between Central and Notten Provinces, a total of twenty-three districts were formed, not unlike those that divided Algorath.
Only at the conclusion of the coronation, an open event to all Valenul citizens held at the old Harlow Estate-turned-castle, did Ariadne take Azriel’s hand and prepare to leave her home for the last time.
Azriel followed Ariadne away from the huge ballroom where hundreds of Valenul citizens—Caersans and Rusans alike—gathered to celebrate the coronation of King and Queen Teaglow.
Despite the long hours and incessant arguing that occurred at the meetings to create a new Valenul, the end result was something to praise.
After what seemed like an eternity, the Caersans and Rusans came to an agreement like nothing he’d seen before: a new form of monarchy kept in check by representatives appointed by the people of the kingdom.
Millennia of unchecked power and an entire hierarchy disassembled in a matter of weeks.
But what Azriel admired most about the process was the calm, steady presence of Ariadne through it all.
While he’d too often been dragged into the bickering and never hesitated to call out the Caersans’ privilege, she’d remained as collected as Madan whenever she pointed out the inequities the Lords attempted to reestablish.
Where once she would have faltered in the face of so many people yelling, she stood tall and commanded peace over the crowded room.
She had been and continued to be, in every way, the Queen she never saw in herself.
Music faded behind them while Ariadne mounted the top of the stairs to the second floor.
Her raven hair shone in the low lights of the lanterns as she looked first down one corridor to where the breakfast den had once lay—whether it remained or not, Azriel was not certain—then toward the wing where her old suite had been vacated after her abduction.
Fingers tightening on the bannister, knuckles paling, she hesitated another beat before starting off.
Without a word, Azriel followed in the wake of her sweeping gown of dusty rose.
The same fabric he had once declared would look magnificent on her.
Revelie had retrieved it from her Laeton shop and fashioned her a new dress—one that reflected her change in status and demeanor.
Where once she insisted upon high, gossamer necklines to hide the scars on her back, she now moved with confidence and self-assurance in revealing cuts that plunged far lower down her spine while maintaining the modesty of the Society at her bust. Like everything she wore, it suited her.
Perhaps, however, he was a bit biased.
They moved in mutual silence down the corridor, passing paintings of past Harlows that were set to be removed and replaced with the growing Teaglow family.
Only as Azriel kept his distance, studying the way she stopped before specific portraits of her mother and father, did he truly feel the extent of the reciprocated mating bond.