Closer to the back of the tent, Ariadne sat up in her cot with a steaming mug in hand. Emillie and Luce sat with her, the lycan appearing bruised and scraped, but otherwise in good health. At least the two of them would not be as haunted by this battle.
“Vhaltrinja!” The familiar voice had Azriel turning to find Jakhov with Revelie sitting on the edge of his cot. The dhemon continued in their language, “The battle is won, then?”
“No thanks to you,” Azriel said in kind, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. He nodded to the bandage around the dhemon’s thigh. “How’s the leg?”
Jakhov scowled. “Fine. These vampires worry too much—I could’ve come back.”
“Good luck getting through that one,” Azriel said, looking pointedly at Revelie. “She’s as bad as Phulan.”
A bark of a laugh echoed behind him, then Phulan said in the dhemon language, “Watch your tongue, boy, or I’ll cut it from your mouth.”
“See?” Azriel raised his brows.
Jakhov grunted, turning his attention back to the vampire beside him. The dhemon’s sinister expression softened instantly as he looked upon the woman with a reverence Azriel couldeasily identify. It was, without a doubt, a bond that tied the cruel dhemon to a vampire—the very person he’d once sworn to hate.
Rather than comment on the clear connection between the two—for Revelie’s eyes shone with curiosity and a gentle eagerness—Azriel continued through the rows to reach the one who had long since stolenhisheart.
Looking around from her conversation with her sister, Ariadne’s eyes lit up. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d seen him in his vampire form since returning from Laeton, and while he likely appeared haggard with his wounds and splatters of dried blood, a more obvious limp to his long-since-broken leg, and too-large clothes, she took him in as though he were the most perfect face she’d ever seen. He didn’t deserve it, but he continued to her nonetheless as she set the mug down beside her and reached out her hand to him.
“You came back to me,” Ariadne whispered.
Azriel took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. “Until the very end, my love.”
Taking the exchange as her cue to leave, Emillie squeezed her sister’s other hand, then turned to Luce. They stood together and made their way out of the tent, the lycan limping more than even he had. Her injuries were merely invisible to his eye, then.
What was not invisible, however, was the tension that shadowed Ariadne’s oceanic eyes. They flickered over his face, taking in every flaking streak of blood, every scrape, and every taut muscle in his jaw.
“Did Phulan tell you?” Ariadne glanced over his shoulder to where the mage no doubt stood over another patient.
Without releasing her hand, Azriel settled onto the cot’s edge. He kissed her fingers again before saying, “She did.”
Ariadne looked away. “Are you upset with me?”
Azriel froze, staring at her for a long moment. He gaped, then cocked his head to return to her line of sight. “I thought you were going todie, Ariadne. I thought I was going to loseyou.”
“But we might never—”
“I don’t care.” He released his hold on her and took her face in his hands instead. “You arealive. I wouldneverbe upset with you about this. You did not do anything—the bastard who put salt on his sword is to blame, and he’s dead.”
Silver lined Ariadne’s eyes as she studied him. “What about children?”
Pressing his forehead to hers, Azriel inhaled deeply. “You are enough. You have always been enough. So long as you are by my side, I will still live a full and happy life. But you… How are you?”
She sucked in a shuddering breath before admitting, “I do not yet know.”
Azriel pulled back again to brush his lips across hers. “Don’t hide from me.”
But Ariadne just shook her head, shifting her gaze up to meet his. “Truly. I am not certain how I feel about it yet, but I will not hide it from you when I am.”
It was all Azriel could ask, but as she leaned into him, her body sagging in his arms, he had the aching feeling that even if she had not yet admitted her feelings to herself, she knew just how much this news weighed on her.
Madan watched from his seat on Brutis as Ehrun’s army gathered in the southernmost reaches of Valenul. The men and women they collected to fight under Azriel’s banner were efficient and, overall, far less callous than he expected after theirless-than-enthusiastic welcome in the mountains. There were also far more than they’d first counted. The several dozen that had surrounded them upon their arrival were joined by thrice as many as they made their way to set up camp just out of reach of Loren’s soldiers.
“We’ll be noticed,” Whelan said from Oria’s back. “What’s the plan if Loren sends the army after us?”
Still not accustomed to hearing Ehrun’s voice in his head anymore, Madan jumped as the dhemon responded through Sehrox from his position amidst the dhemons setting up camp, “They’ll fight without question.”
With a grimace, Madan turned to the late Crowe’s general. “They’ll be wildly outnumbered.”
