The rest of the carriage ride had Ariadne biting back snide remarks in response to Loren’s backhanded quips. His compliments to her friends—gods, toher—were, as always, more insincere than the crown upon his head. Every second reminded her that he was using them to make her more pliable.
Disgusting.
She shuddered to consider all she had endured over the last several hours. Every touch, every praise, every glance from her so-called husband made her skin crawl. If Loren Gard thought her to be eagerly awaiting their time alone together based on her reactions to him throughout the reception, he was grossly mistaken. It was not lost on her that his lack of awareness of her subconscious responses only heightened his own desire. When she shivered at his touch, it was not from anticipation but from resisting the urge to deposit the contents of her stomach on his boots. Again.
When they arrived at her family home, however, all thoughts of what was to come abandoned Ariadne. The door opened, and she stepped out after her husband, her breath catching in her lungs in such a way that she knew Loren would incorrectly assume it was due to him having impressed her with the changes he had made.
The home that she had loved for over a century and a half was gone. Hidden amongst the new, expansive wings remained the hint of its original façade—stones and windows that had gone untouched. From her vantage point in the drive, Ariadne could make out her old haunts where she once stopped to look out over the lake amidst the trees or oversee the horses in the fields. Just there, she found what had once been a corridor with a lovely lounge where she would curl up in the moonlight to read her fae tales.
But the thick familiar shrubbery had been removed and replaced with bushes of thorny roses, blooming abnormally inthe autumnal season. Even the path along which she had once raced Azriel had been torn away, making room for the new additions that did not quite feel natural.
Ariadne was not the first to comment, and for that she was grateful. Instead, Camilla stepped down from the carriage with a gasp and exclaimed with a heavy tongue, “Oh, my! Is it not magnificent?”
At least one of them kept up the charade to placate the beast. In response, Loren stood a little taller. “A castle fit for a true kingdom.” He looked at Ariadne, his icy eyes glittering in the moonlight. “I wished to create a new home with you.”
“I love it,” Ariadne breathed without thinking. If she considered any of it too long, she would not be able to lie when it was, in fact, hideous.
“Come, my pet.” Loren took her arm again and guided her towards the front doors. “Let me show you the rooms I have prepared for—”
Right on cue, Revelie bent over double and vomited on the front steps. How she managed to make herself do such a thing on command, Ariadne did not want to know. In their nights of preparations for this moment, her friend had assured her that she would be able to enact it just fine—a lingering ability, she claimed, from her nights as the Golden Rose when she wished to avoid suitors.
“Gods!” Camilla cried and made a show of pulling a kerchief from between her breasts to hand to Revelie, who took it with an exasperated look of gratitude.
Before Loren could say or do anything, Ariadne extracted herself from his hold and hurried down to her friends. “Are you alright, Revelie?”
“Fine, fine,” Revelie croaked as she cleaned her face. Grimacing apologetically, she continued, “I have kept you for far too long. Please do not worry over me.”
“Nonsense!” Ariadne wrapped an arm around Revelie’s waist and guided her up the steps, past Loren, without giving him so much as a glance. “I insist I see you settled properly in your rooms.”
Loren followed with a quiet curse under his breath. “This is hardly a task for aQueen.”
Throwing him an exasperated look, Ariadne retorted with, “You are correct. It is a task for afriend. I will see her to her rooms and join you once Camilla has assisted me with changing. I have…quite the surprise for you.”
That sparked Loren’s interest. Eager though he was to get her into his bed, she had piqued the side of him that always desired more. More power. More fame. More sex. Moreher.
After a moment of chewing on his tongue, Loren nodded. “I will see you shortly, then.”
“Thank you,” she breathed and continued on into the foyer.
It was, if possible, even worse than the outside. The entry had expanded to thrice its original size, eating up the space once utilized for the front parlor. A dual staircase, not unlike the one at the reception, now curved down on either side rather than the singular set of steps up the center of the original foyer. Everything from the trim to the color to the chandelier and flooring had been changed with entirely too much gold.
With Loren still in earshot, Ariadne held her tongue when all she wanted to comment on was how gaudy and ridiculous it looked. Indeed, she hated every new facet and was grateful her father would never see it and that it would, with any hope whatsoever, be burned before Emillie had to witness what it had become.
“Violet!” Ariadne called at the sight of her sister’s old handmaid at the top of the stairs, thankful for a familiar face. The Rusan woman froze at the sight of her, eyes wide in shock as she took in the golden tiara on her head, before hurrying downthe steps to sling her arm under Revelie’s other side. Camilla appeared beside them, keeping one eye on the King at the bottom of the stairs. “Help us locate Miss Ives’s rooms?”
At first, Violet blinked in confusion, then she nodded. “Right this way, Your Majesty.”
“Is Penelope still in service here?” Ariadne asked, holding out her arm for Camilla, who took it without question.
The color drained from Violet’s cheeks. “Not since your disappearance, Your Majesty.”
Her words made Ariadne’s stomach churn. “And…Thom?”
Violet winced, leading them down the same corridor where the library once lay. “Thom waspermanentlyrelieved, Your Majesty.”
Oh, Ariadne could make her own show of hurling up her guts right there. Her escape from her father’s imprisonment had had a greater impact than she anticipated. The Rusan vampires wrangled into their plot had gotten the two main culprits fired and killed.
Rather than allow herself to stew on the repercussions of her actions and blame herself, Ariadne forced herself to focus. She could not let what happened to Thom be in vain. If he died for her to free Azriel, then she would ensure Azriel would fix the mess that had become Valenul.
