12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

L ess than a week after Ariadne's arrival, Madan waited in the dining room to say goodbye to his sister. Again. He did not argue when she insisted on leaving so soon despite wanting her to stay for her own safety. With his new position as the Lord Governor of Eastwood, he would need to report back to Laeton to meet the Council soon and would, therefore, leave her behind anyway.

Besides…if anyone discovered she had been in Monsumbra or that he had hidden her from the Princeps, he would likely land in a similar position as his brother. Such a predicament wouldn't bode well for anyone involved.

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.

"Their courts will rarely listen to such cases," Ariadne said. "I am well aware. That does not mean I cannot try."

"I have it under good authority that Azriel is in a bad position." Madan pulled from his pocket a letter and set it on the table. "He is imprisoned under the Desmo of the Suin District—one of several across the city."

Still, Ariadne didn't seem put out. "Certainly, the Desmo will listen to reason."

Whelan snorted. "No Desmo will let go of their prisoners lightly. Particularly not Melia Tagh . It's how they make money."

Ariadne frowned and set her fork down. "But he has been wrongfully—"

"According to the documents provided," Madan cut in, "he's been charged with treason and"—he glanced at her apologetically—"rape."

She gaped at him, and his heart sank at what he saw. At first, she looked affronted—shocked that anyone would believe such licentious claims. Then understanding took hold and those bright, oceanic eyes darkened. She sank back in her chair, her shoulders curling in on herself as she wrestled with her own past.

"In the eyes of the Algorathian government," Madan continued, "he has every reason to be there. Every reason to die in the Pits. They don't take kindly to…people with those labels."

"He would never." Ariadne looked at him with pleading eyes. "Can you not say something in his defense?"

Madan shook his head. "My word doesn't outweigh that of the Princeps."

"These are serious accusations," Margot said with a huff and peered up at him. "Could you not speak with the Princeps to come to an agreement for his release?"

He sighed. "Nor do I have pull with Markus Harlow."

"Do not lie to yourself, boy." Margot shook her head. "Tell him the truth, and you will become the second most powerful vampire in Valenul."

The blood drained from Madan's face, and for a moment, his head swam. "The General—"

"The General is a snake." Whelan's grip on his chair's arms tightened, and the wood creaked from the pressure.

"Easy, alhija ." Madan swallowed back the rising tide of discomfort and fear at the thought of Loren Gard. He would have to face the General again one day, and he could only pray to any god listening that he could do so without issue.

"I will kill him for what he did to you," Whelan snarled, falling back into the dhemon language. "I'll have his head on the fucking mantle before long, I swear to you."

"Now who's being rude?" Kall snapped back in kind. "Quit with your death threats and focus on the task at hand. That bastard has nothing to do with what we'll be attempting to accomplish in Algorath."

Ariadne looked between them, her brows drawn together with uncertainty. "How does any of this help me?"

"Melia Tagh is the Desmo overseeing Azriel's imprisonment." Madan glared at both dhemons before refocusing on her. "Azriel has a history with Melia—one that will make it particularly difficult to free him."

Her eyes widened with understanding. "He and Melia were together once?"

"It was brief," Madan said, hoping to soothe the look of hurt forming. "About a century ago, he and I were sent to Algorath to gather mages under the Crowe's orders. He wanted their help in the war."

"And this Melia was one of them?" Margot's eyes brightened with curiosity. Being as old as she was, Madan was certain she didn't often come across a tale or even a drop of gossip she hadn't yet heard. Though she moved slowly and spoke little, her ears were as sharp as ever.

Madan nodded once, then looked between his grandmother and half-sister. "I need you both to understand that we've done a lot of things in the past that we are not proud of today. We fought wholeheartedly against vampires for centuries . There were orders we executed without batting an eye, but after a few hundred years of it…we were tired."

His sister bit her lip as though just realizing how true it must have all been. Her brother and her husband were, in the eyes of Valenul, murderers and traitors. Yet, to her credit, she said nothing. She merely sat in her chair, still curled in on herself, and listened.

"The Crowe was desperate." Madan scowled down at his plate. "When we brought back the mages, he had Azriel and me feed them our blood. It nulled their magic long enough for him to kill them and place them near mages' merchant camps."

Now Ariadne gaped at him as though not quite seeing him, but a monster. He ignored the guilt curling in his gut and powered on, "We had no idea that had been his intention. The Crowe sought to start a war between Valenul and Algorath, hoping the mages would weaken the vampires enough for us to drive them out of the Valley."

"Then Melia discovered the truth," Whelan added, and Madan's shoulders sagged in relief. He couldn't keep looking at the horror growing on his sister's face. "She'd been told the mages were being sent on missions into the villages and camps. When no one returned, she investigated."

"She put a sword through Azriel when he'd tried to explain," Madan said. "She told him to stay out of Algorath, or she'd hunt him down and make the rest of his life miserable. Now she controls him."

A long silence met his final proclamation. No one moved. No one even seemed to breathe. Gods, if he did anything at all, he would be surprised. He'd as good as declared his own brother dead.

Perhaps he already was.

Ariadne marveled at Bindhe's unique coloring when they reached the forest clearing an hour later. The pale green scales shimmered in the low moonlight like the wings of a luna moth, and her black spikes trailed her back elegantly down to the tip of her long, thin tail. She was larger than Oria, though not as large as Razer, and her stunning tarnished silver eyes were discerning as they tracked her.

"We leave." Kall laid a hand on Bindhe's nose in greeting, and she huffed in response, blinking slowly at him. "Come."

Until that moment, Ariadne had not thought much about the prospect of flying. After settling the mode of transport by means of arguments, she had been careful not to focus on what would come next. Facing the dragon set to fly her into a hostile desert city, however…

"I do not think I can do this." She stared at Bindhe, who almost seemed to ruffle with indignation. "Perhaps we should have practiced first."

Kall raised his scarred brow. "You not fall."

Now her stomach roiled. Falling had not even been on her mind. Just the thought of riding atop a massive reptile on her way to somehow convincing Melia Tagh to release her husband had been enough for her to have doubts.

"What if I do?" She turned round eyes on the dhemon. He had become a guardian of sorts to her over the last few nights. Likely from Madan's instruction, he knew precisely how far to push her and when she appeared ready to break. Oftentimes, she pushed through without too much trouble. Grappling with him had taken on a whole other level of mental fortitude, however. She had begun to trust him. Trust that he would never do something to truly hurt her. Still, how could he prevent her from tumbling hundreds of feet into unforgiving ground?

He sighed. "I no let you."

Bindhe nudged her arm, bringing her massive head, nose first, between it and her body, where she looked up at her with those shining eyes. Though Ariadne could not hear what she said, she got the feeling the dragon was trying to tell her you will be fine .

Kall mumbled something in the dhemon language, and Bindhe huffed, flicking her sharp gaze to him. Then he said again, "We leave. Now."

Try as she might, Ariadne could not stop shaking as she stepped to Bindhe's side. Kall bent at the knees and put one hand over the other in front of him. She stared at him for a long moment before he rolled his eyes and explained the makeshift step. Though she knew full well that he could pick her up without any effort, she stepped as gingerly as possible into the palm of his hand. He hoisted as she stood, nearly throwing her onto Bindhe's back.

The pale scales were smooth under her fingers and harder than any metal she had ever touched. The curve at the base of her neck created a natural seat that shifted with each movement. Even after Kall hauled himself up behind her, there was enough room for them both to be comfortable. Though she was not certain how comfortable she was sitting so close to the dhemon, his chest pressing against her back.

"Legs hold," Kall instructed as Bindhe stood to her full height.

Even still on the ground, Ariadne felt entirely out of her league. Yes, she loved riding horseback. Yes, she could even do so astride and bareback. Neither of those seemed to translate into what she did at that moment. On the back of a dragon—gods, a dragon —she sat almost three times as high as on Astra.

Still, she squeezed her quaking thighs tight against Bindhe's neck, her thundering heart drowning out the rest of the world. She wished her first flight had been with Azriel. She wished Azriel had even warned her that dragons existed. She wished she had had time to practice before such a long and potentially dangerous flight.

"What if I slip?" Her voice shook, teeth chattering around each syllable.

Kall did not laugh, though she sensed his amusement through the haze of her terror. Instead, he leaned a little closer, his horns bumping into the side of her face as he repeated his earlier words, "You not fall."

"What if…" The words failed her. Hot tears pricked at her eyes, and she found herself leaning back against him—against anything that felt solid and stable. "What if Ehrun comes?"

At first, he did not reply. When she looked up at him, his eyes seemed distant, as though he was thinking about something far away. Then he said, "Bindhe fly around Auhla ."

The dhemon keep. A shudder went down her spine despite evidence pointing to the cliffside keep being empty. "But Ehrun has dragons, too?"

Kall grunted in affirmation yet did not elaborate. He leaned forward, pressing in tight to her back, and gripped a black spike above Ariadne's head. His free arm slunk around her waist, holding her loosely to him. She shut her eyes, reminding herself who he was and that Madan trusted him. Azriel trusted him. She trusted him.

Then Bindhe stretched out her green wings and launched into the air.

Ariadne's scream stuck in her throat. She shut her eyes hard against the wind and ducked her face away. Her stomach settled as Bindhe leveled out, though she did not release any tension from her legs. Behind her, Kall's chest rumbled with laughter swept away by the wind, but his arm tightened around her nonetheless.

" Ydhom ." The word was faint, the cold night air catching the sound and tossing it away before it could fully form. "Look, ydhom ."

At his behest, she cracked open her eyes. Between the wind and her uncertainty that she would be able to hold her stomach, she kept them tight enough to just see through her lashes. After a moment of steady flying, however, she opened them a bit more.

And, gods, was it beautiful.

The night sky folded around her like a twinkling blanket. Where she was accustomed to viewing the stars from her vantage point on the ground, she had not considered what they would look like out of reach of the lights from manors and highway lanterns. Swaths of distant galaxies stretched as far as she could see, the sheer number of them blurring together in clouds of faraway light. The crescent moon bathed amongst the sea of darkness and beamed down at them without the hindrance of any clouds.

"Look," Kall said again and pointed north.

Ariadne followed his line of sight. Lights of green and purple danced across the distant horizon, rising and falling over the trees as though they breathed. She had heard of and read tales about the lights that danced in the northernmost reaches of Myridia, yet she had never had the pleasure of seeing them herself. They were, without a doubt, one of the most magical sights she had ever laid her eyes on.

Her heart sank. The thrill of flying and euphoria of the aurora borealis waned at the thought of Azriel. She should have experienced them both with him, not Kall. Not a dhemon she had once despised. It should have been her husband who held onto her waist, ensuring she did not fall into the darkness far below. Rather than riding on Razer's back, the dragon who shared the heart of her love, she sat upon the beautiful Bindhe.

Releasing a long breath, she blinked back the tears that pricked at her eyes. At least the fear had evaporated. Replacing it with that hollow chasm, however, was not ideal. She had done so well at hiding the horrible ache behind every strike, roll, and drill that built her strength and endurance. Only in her moments of silence, between breaths of consciousness and the sweet relief of sleep, had she been forced to endure his absence.

Now it punched her hard in the chest, knocking the wind from her.

To his credit, Kall said nothing. He did not point out any more magnificent views or ask any questions. He merely soared through the sky with her in silence.

The rest of the night, they passed over the Keonis Mountains. The peaks rose up around them, and when they were unable to fly between the craggy cliffs, Bindhe took them higher. So high were they forced to climb, in fact, that the air grew thin. Ariadne's head spun, and after expressing her concerns with Kall, the dragon searched for a lower altitude.

It was during that time, when they dipped below the ridgelines and banked side to side, that Kall's body grew tense. When she looked up at him, his ruby eyes swept around them. She had not seen him quite so serious since the night he had arrived on the highway to save her, Azriel, and Madan from Ehrun's ambush. His tight jaw and low brows told her that this was not the safest route through the mountain range.

When he turned to look back the way they had come, Ariadne asked, "Are we safe?"

He grunted in response and righted himself, refocusing on the path ahead.

Fucking dhemons. If she had a coin for each time one of them had foregone the standard yes , she would have rivaled the Dodds' coffers.

To her relief, however, she did not spot any adversaries in the sky or on the rocky surface below. If Kall or Bindhe saw or suspected anything, they kept it hidden from her, for which she was thankful. The last thing she needed while racing through the night sky was to worry about plummeting to her death because Ehrun's cronies had found them.

So when dawn threatened to break over the horizon not long after they wove out from the last of the mountains, Bindhe began her descent into the desert. She moved slowly and with purpose. Ariadne's ears pounded with pain, then released pressure as they went. Too quick, and she was certain the sudden shift of altitude would have ruptured her eardrums.

They landed in the cold sand, far from the main highway through the Saalo Desert. With no fires, tents, or any living creatures for as far as the eye could see, Kall dismounted and helped Ariadne from the dragon's back.

Her legs and rear screamed . After sitting on the hard scales for so long, pinching her thighs together at every windy buffet, her muscles protested any other movement. While it was not unlike the way she felt after a long night of riding Astra, her legs felt too wide, and the seat of her hips ached.

"Eat." Kall held his traveling pack open with one hand, and the other offered a sandwich wrapped in a cheesecloth.

Ariadne accepted the food, then frowned as she opened the wrapping to find roast beef, cheese, and vegetables stacked between two thick slices of bread. She had not expected the meat. "Who made this?"

Kall swayed his hips from side to side as though stretching out the same soreness she felt. "Me."

She smiled at him. That he had considered the kinds of food she would enjoy meant more than she could express in the two simple words she uttered in reply, "Thank you."

"I like food." He frowned, the words clearly not what he had wanted to say. "I happy…make food."

"Making food makes you happy?" She took a bite from the sandwich, the flavors jumping to life on her tongue after a long night of fasting. Though Kall had offered her food mid-flight, she had not trusted it to stay put, given how often Bindhe had had to twist through ravines.

The dhemon grunted in response and bit into his own sandwich packed with vegetables. Raw meat would, after all, spoil after such a long flight.

Bindhe, however, just curled up in the sand and closed her eyes.

"Does she have anything to eat?" Ariadne glanced at the food in her hand, which would not be nearly enough for such a large creature.

Kall tilted his head to the side in consideration. "She eat before. She fine."

"Will we make it to Algorath tomorrow?"

Another grunt as he chewed another bite. After swallowing, he said, "Bindhe fly close, then we walk."

Of course. They would need to keep the dragon a secret, as they have done for so long. The moment anyone outside the dhemons and their allies discovered their existence, the mountains and tundra would be crawling with vampires, mages, and fae searching for the clutch.

When Ariadne had asked Madan why the dhemons never used the dragons in the war efforts, his answer was simple: "They were. Sometimes. No one from those villages survived to speak of them. We made sure of it."

"Why not attack Laeton or Monsumbra?" she had asked. Valenul's capital would have been an ideal target, though the stories of burned villages now made sense. That nothing and no one had survived had been hard to imagine.

Madan had sighed and shook his head wearily. "We had no guarantee of victory, and no one wanted to risk their dragon's life."

For the Valenul army did, in fact, have the artillery to fell a dragon. Catapults, trebuchets, and ballistas were stationed at every provincial capital and even more in Laeton and the Hub. Though Ariadne had never seen any of them in action, she suspected they were devastating in battle.

Mages, on the other hand, did not need such massive weaponry. Their powers, particularly when combined for massive spells, could do incredible things.

Including turning an entire nation of people into blood-drinking night-walkers.

She lingered for a moment on the thought as they settled in for the day, Bindhe stretching out a wing for them both to lie beneath. With plenty of space between them, Ariadne shimmied into the sand to give herself a more comfortable place to sleep. She had only just laid her head down on her small pack of clothes before she slipped into the sweet grasp of unconsciousness.

By the time Bindhe left them far from the mage city the following night, Ariadne was more than thankful for the dragon's protection throughout the daylight hours. Without her constant vigilance and protection from the rays, she would have had no way to make it to Algorath.

And by the gods, her first sighting of the city took her breath away.

Never in all her life did she imagine she would make it to Algorath. For so long she had been molded into the perfect image of what a Caersan woman should be: demure, silent, and without opinions on the important matters of, frankly, anything. She swayed from one room to the next with nary a thought for herself—until Darien, of course. He had changed so much about her…

Just to have it all stripped away by Ehrun, one lesson at a time.

Now she stood in the middle of the Saalo Desert beside a half-blind dhemon with an ax strapped to his back and stared up at the massive crimson walls that stretched out and up like a curtain of stone. She had never seen anything quite so grand in all her life, and it sent a spear of nerves through the center of her gut.

"Where do we go from here?" She looked up at Kall, praying to Keon—no, the Goddess of Fire, Emry, ruled these lands—that she knew what to do next. The gates were very much closed, and she had no intention of speaking with the stern sentinels with their obscured faces.

Kall crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, feet wide. "We wait."

"For what?"

He merely stared at the gates. "Phulan."

As though she knew who this Phulan person would be. Ariadne sighed and adjusted her own stance in the sand, her boots shifting over the red grains with the slightest movement. After walking for so long over the uneven, slippery terrain, her calves burned. At least they would not for much longer. A vampiric gift she would never be upset about that had kept her from feeling tired or sore after training for hours on end.

They did not have to wait long before the gates opened, and a lone figure strode out. By the way they moved, as though with steady confidence led by their hips, Ariadne could only guess this woman was who they waited for: Phulan.

Ariadne stared as Phulan approached. The woman was stunning. She wore loose pants that hugged her in just the right places and a low-cut shirt that exposed her midriff with wide sleeves that hung off her shoulders. Her hair, shining silky smooth in the moonlight, was mostly black. Two thick streaks of silver stretched from her temples into the long braid that hung over one shoulder. With deep brown skin that crinkled lightly at the corners of her vivid amethyst eyes, she exuded an ancient wisdom that Ariadne had not felt even in the presence of Margot, a vampire as old as the race itself.

"Kall." Phulan's plump lips pulled into a smile, and as she stepped to him, she hooked her fingers around his horns and gave them a playful tug.

To Ariadne's shock, the dhemon laughed. He actually laughed . Then tugged at the end of her braid in return and said something in his language.

Phulan responded in kind before turning to her. When she spoke, her accent was almost as though the words were said in cursive, it was so beautiful. "You must be Ariadne."

She blinked. Of course, if Phulan had been expecting them, she would be able to guess at her name. So she nodded. "It is lovely to meet you."

"Hmm." Phulan pursed her lips. "No. I don't believe it is."

Ariadne gaped, not quite certain how to respond. "Pardon me?"

"If our meeting were lovely," the mage explained, "you'd be here with your husband…not this big oaf."

Another chuckle from Kall. Perhaps an inside joke she was not privy to. All the same, Ariadne could not disagree with Phulan's words. If she were indeed a friend of Azriel's, then she would have been someone he would have introduced her to. Given the correct circumstances.

Whether Phulan saw or sensed Ariadne's withdrawal at the thought, the mage took up her hand and patted it. "Nonetheless, my dear…welcome to Algorath."