But it was Whelan who shook his head. “Lhuka has asked to be put on guard rotation. After what happened to Gavrhil… He needs time.”
Azriel nodded in understanding, then sucked in a deep breath and looked down the long table to where Thorin sat, regal as ever on the far side of the table. He spoke in the dhemon tongue as he said, “My numbers are small compared to those who have joined us in recent weeks. You are the voice of those clans. Of those dhemons. I would like you to choose someone amongst them who can lead the others. Bring me their name by nightfall.”
Inclining her head, Thorin responded in kind. “It is my honor to do so.”
“Edira. Luce.” Azriel turned his attention to the newest additions to the table and switched back to the common tongue. “While Thorin gets the dhemons in order, I need the two of you to work with Liulund and organize the high fae and lycan. If you aren’t comfortable leading the training, assign those you wish to do so and give me their names by nightfall as well.”
The two women glanced at one another, then nodded in unison.
Finally, he looked to the vampire Lords. “I’d like you two to work with Madan to ensure those in charge of our growing numbers know what to expect from Valenul soldiers. You have the knowledge none of us can mimic, even if you haven’t served in the army yourself.”
Veron Knoll nodded brusquely. “I have spent my fair share of time in soldier training. We will provide whatever intel is needed to prevent the battles to come from impacting civilians.”
“The last thing we want,” Madan affirmed, “is for innocent lives to be lost. Thank you.”
The meeting adjourned with that. Those gathered pushed their seats back and began their routes out of the room. Azrielstayed in his seat, still holding Ariadne’s hand, as Madan and Whelan stood.
“The midday meal is being served,” his brother said, looking between them.
“Start without us,” Azriel said. “I need a moment with my wife.”
Whelan and Madan glanced at one another before nodding and closing the door behind them, leaving Azriel and Ariadne very much alone—a rarity for them since he’d reawoken in the dhemon keep once more.
Pushing back his chair, Azriel tugged gently on Ariadne’s hand. “My love.”
Ariadne eased from the too-large throne at the head of the table onto his lap, where she pulled her knees to her chest and lay her head on his shoulder. With it being her first experience inside the war room, Azriel was not surprised by her response. Though meetings were merely discussions, debates, and strategizing, the endeavors are exhausting and wearisome on the soul. Particularly while planning a war.
What did surprise him, however, was the way she gripped the collar of his shirt as though he’d just become her only tether to the world.
“Are you well?” he asked, brushing his lips over her forehead and wrapping his arms around her. They’d taken several steps back since her return from Laeton, and with his own memories a fog from Phulan’s potions, he had no basis as to why. Her lack of communication on the matter only worsened things.
Silence stretched on, but as much as he wanted to press for answers, he knew that by doing so, he would only further drive whatever wedge there was between them. She sucked in shallow breaths in a slow, rhythmic pattern and he knew without a doubt that she was using the same breathing techniques she had after returning from her imprisonment inAuhla.
That this place had become a sort of haven to her from what was once her home only made Azriel’s heart ache more.
“Everything is so different,” she said at last, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear her. “I want it to go back to how it was before.”
Azriel swallowed hard and, despite how much he didn’t want to know the answer, he asked, “Before what?”
“Before we left for the tomb.” Another shuddering breath, and her grip tightened. “Before the ambush. Before Loren…”
Her voice trailed away, leaving entirely too much up for interpretation. Azriel’s mind swirled, and that horrible monster inside him reared its ugly head, demanding to know more. Demanding justice. Demanding vengeance. It made his muscles tense unbidden and the air lock up in his lungs.
But anger wouldn’t solve whatever plagued Ariadne. His desire to turn Loren into a pile of indecipherable limbs wouldn’t change whatever happened in her past.
So, as gently as he could muster, Azriel asked, “What did Loren do?”
Rage-fueled memories of her bruised face, paired with her blood-speckled and torn dress, rushed to the forefront of his mind. Fear. There had been fear in her eyes as well while Loren had lain prostrate on the floor. Something had happened between them, and while his bond shoved horrible pieced-together images of that disgusting excuse for a man andhiswife on that floor, Azriel fought back the urge to fly straight to Laeton and finish everything right then.
Instead, he pulled Ariadne closer, her body now quaking in uncontrollable spurts. “Help me help you, my love. I don’t know what to think or do or—”
“He tried,” she said, cutting him off. “He held me down. I tried to get away. I tried to fight back, but my body just stopped. I wasso scared, and all I could think about was what happened when Ehrun put me back in those cells.”
Azriel was going to vomit. Again and again, that inner monster forced those memories forward, forcing him to wrestle with the hate and frustration that, had he been able to control his bond better, he never would’ve been given those potions. Rather than arrive in Laeton a mess, unable to control his own body, he would’ve been able to put a permanent end to Loren right then and there, ultimately removing that one terror from Ariadne’s life.
He’d failed her. Just as he’d failed to protect her from Ehrun.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, “for not being able to keep you safe.”
