All too soon, however, the pale green of his memories faded to ocean blue. A clearer image, one his mind never needed to reconstruct from broken memories and chipped portraits, took shape. Black hair gave way to the deep raven curls that framed her perfect face. Rosy lips parted in a surprised smile before colliding with—
“No!” Azriel shoved away from Madan, scrambling for purchase in the darkness.
Only when he felt a thick membrane of a wall did his mind register why everything looked so strange. He’d been under Razer’s wing.
“Az.” Madan’s voice sounded distant, yet as though he spoke to a rabid animal. “Azriel, everything is alright. I promise!”
“Where is she?” His heavy tongue stumbled over the words. Common always felt like mush when he spoke, but now more than ever. Stretching his jaw as though that were the issue, he flailed again, trying to find his feet. She needed him—no, wait.
Her words swam back to him through the dense fog.He is a monster.
Oh, he was going to hurl. A monster. Monster. He washermonster. The terror that stole her away into the night, delivering her unto the very torment from which she wished to now escape. She’d returned to the one she’d said would keep her safe.
“Listen to me.” The command washed over him, unheeded as his bond throttled the logical part of his brain. “We have a plan. We need you, Azriel.”
But Ariadne wasgone. She’d left him—left him in the foyer of the Caldwell Manor and again in the tomb. Both times had been to go back to Loren Gard, the one she’d wanted from the very beginning.
“I’ll kill them.” The words, still slurred, snapped from Azriel like a prayer. “I’ll burn it all.”
“And who do you think will help with that?” Razer’s voice was calm. “Because I won’t be joining that particular venture.”
“She thinks I’m amonster.”
Madan grappled for his arm. “No, Azriel, she—”
“If I am amonster,” Azriel snarled and yanked himself away from his brother before stumbling to his feet. He shook his head as everything spun. “Then I will show them what amonsteris capable of—”
In an instant, his mouth snapped shut. The words choked in his throat as he struggled to move at all. He swiveled his attention through the darkness until he saw it glinting from Madan’s neck mere feet from him—the key.
That’s when he felt the weight of the metal around his neck. Each swallow had his throat bobbing against the collar that restrained him. The same collar once placed on him by none other than Loren Gard before it was replaced by Melia Tagh. Only when Paerish had alleviated him of the mage metal’s weight had he been truly free.
Now his own brother had imprisoned him.
Muscles taut with rage, Azriel pushed against the bonds before he snapped through. His fingers curled around Madan’s throat, forcing him to the ground with a snarl. Marbled eyes flew wide in shock as the air punched from his lungs.
“How fuckingdareyou?” Azriel added pressure, blinded by the ire pumping through his veins. “Youtraitor.”
“Kill him!” called someone in the dhemon language, the tone dark and eager. “Rip out his throat!”
Azriel bared his fangs, ready to do just that, before something massive and sharp crashed into him. His hand slipped loose, and he slammed into the ground, a claw caging his body. Above him, a pair of golden eyes glittered, and teeth as long as his arm flashed in the moonlight.
“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” Razer brought his nose closer to emphasize his point. “You did this to yourself.”
Blinking up at the dragon, Azriel sobered. His immediate actions focused in his mind’s eye, and he turned his head to look at Madan.
Beside his brother, Whelan crouched and spoke low so he couldn’t make out the words beyond the pounding in his ears. Madan sat up, rubbing his throat, and turned his gaze to Azriel from over his partner’s shoulder. Something akin to distrust shone there, shadowing his features.
Fuck.
It was not often that Emillie was grateful for her nocturnal needs. At times such as these, however, she felt herself not envying those amongst their party who preferred to rest during the night hours. Though they had adjusted their sleeping schedule to accommodate her and Madan, she knew it had not been entirely necessary, what with the necklace Ariadne had given her prior to running off and setting her dragon on them. She had read about the Noct in the ritual that created vampires,however, and had not touched it since being informed of its name.
The yelling from across the camp didn’t get to Emillie when they rose up for what felt like the hundredth time that night alone. They started faint, as they always had, and grew steadily as time passed. Only this time, when Phulan stood to put an end to them, it only got worse.
“Stubborn boy,” the mage muttered as she took her seat beside Zeke, now empty-handed and her neck bare of the keyed necklace she had previously worn.
Emillie tilted her head before twisting to look back at where the huge blue dragon lay nestled beside her brother-in-law. “What is it?”
A soft, distant song drifted through the cold of the night, making Emillie frown. Across the fire, Whelan stiffened and pivoted to where he heard the song. Uncertainty shone there, the firelight casting harsh shadows across his face.
