Azriel froze, gave Ariadne a warning look, then made to step away.
“Oh, no.” Ariadne grabbed his wrist. “You do not get to walk away that quickly. Explain it to her.”
“What is this about marriage?” Revelie asked, her dark eyes flickering from one to the other. “I have not gotten married to anyone.”
Blue cheeks flushing, Azriel grumbled something in the dhemon language under his breath before sighing and addressing Revelie. “Not in the traditional vampire sense, no. But in dhemon culture, a bond is as good as a wedding and you accepted Jakhov as a husband—or in every sense of the word—the moment you went through that ritual.”
It was Revelie’s turn to blush. She glanced at the dhemon just as he flickered his gaze up to her, the excitement softening to a tenderness that Ariadne had only ever seen from other bonded dhemons. “I suppose a part of me knew that.”
“Did the ritual not alter your view of him?” Azriel asked, his brows lowering. His eyes flashed in Ariadne’s direction before refocusing on the other Caersan woman. Did he not believe that she now felt the bond as he did? Foolish man.
Revelie fought back a smile. “Of course it did. I admit, my determination to get to know each other more first is…waning.”
That made Ariadne laugh and she hooked her arm through Revelie’s, pulling her away from the group. Anything to distract her from the state of her half-brother and the man to whom he now owed his life. More so, she was curious about things that Azriel just could not answer. “I have questions for you…away from them.”
“Alright, then.” Revelie allowed herself to be pulled away.
They wove through the maze of the camp together until Ariadne found her personal tent and pulled back the flap so they could enter alone. Revelie crossed to the edge of their makeshift bed and plopped herself on the edge to look up at Ariadne expectantly.
When Ariadne did not speak right away, Revelie sighed, grabbed her hand, and dragged her to the pile of furs beside her. “What is it?”
“You know how the dhemons’ powers are being unlocked with the ritual?” Ariadne asked, trying to organize her thoughts to the best of her ability.
“Oh, yes.” Revelie shook her head and blew out a breath.
The camps and travel since the ritual had been almost unbearable for many of them who made their way to Central Province amidst the newly connected dhemons. The flurry of emotions that battled between dhemons as they struggled to control the magic was enough to cause any one of the high fae, lycans, or mages distress. Every possible feeling from sorrow and rage to peace and admiration sprung forth at randommoments, causing those around the uncontrollable dhemons to succumb to the sensations.
Ariadne settled on her next question. “What is Jakhov’s?”
At first, Revelie hesitated. Her expressions wavered between uncertainty and curiosity as she said, “I am almost certain it is something like…desperation? Everyone affected by it starts begging for their greatest desires.”
Odd. That was not what Ariadne expected, but she brushed it off. “And are you influenced by his magic?”
Revelie scoffed. “No! If anything, I think I can use the magic as well.”
For a long moment, nothing registered in Ariadne’s mind. She had not even considered the possibility of using Azriel’s new power. When she finally collected herself, she asked, “Why do you think that?”
“I found that people started acting similarly around me these last few nights when I am uncomfortable.” She bit her lip, then sat a little straighter with more confidence. “My eyes glow white when it happens, apparently.”
“Oh,shit.” Ariadne laughed at that. How she had not put the pieces together herself made her feel far more foolish than she anticipated. While she would like to claim it was due to her mind being in so many different places at once, she knew the truth: she just did not make those same kinds of observations. “Mine did the same, and Azriel’s were black.”
“Yes!” Revelie grinned at the dawning realization on her face. “I have seen dhemons who are bonded switch whose eyes are black and whose are white.”
“Depending on whose power they are using?” Ariadne asked the question already knowing the answer. The bonded dhemons were discovering how they can tap into one another’s magic, swap between them to utilize the magic to their advantage.
Nodding, Revelie made a face. “A part of me wishes I had a power to lend in return.”
But Ariadne shook her head. “I think your power—ourpower as being bonded to our respective dhemons—is keeping them from losing sight of themselves. If you had seen Jakhov before he met you… He is a completely different man.”
Indeed, when Ariadne had had that first meal at the Caldwell Estate, Jakhov had sat beside her. Though her memories were certainly clouded by the terror of being seated beside a dhemon, she recalled him being rather brash after he insisted on calling herprincess. A mockery of sorts.
“I am certain of it,” Revelie laughed. “He is not the most demure dhemon I have met.”
Another laugh bubbled up. Demure was far from any description that Ariadne would give many of the dhemons, though she had learned that most were far more polite and reserved than Azriel and his closest friends. The clan leaders, particularly, were curiously similar to many Caersans of the Society in their demeanor and authority.
“But I am certain you did not bring me here to ask about their powers,” Revelie surmised as her fingers began roving over the hem of Ariadne’s shirt, her nose scrunching at the rushed stitching there. “What did you wish to ask of me?”
Ariadne gaped at her for a moment before sighing. “You said you were not influenced by Jakhov’s powers.”
