“I need a Harlow sister,” Phulan said, looking between Emillie and Luce. “Since Ariadne’s face is plastered all over the city, she can’t exactly go in there herself.”
To her credit, Luce said nothing. She grit her teeth and looked to Emillie for her response. Two sides of the lycan warred within her. One was the part of her who hated anything to do with any prison system and would undoubtedly want to free the prisoners herself. The other half was the new bond that she had finally admitted to. Keeping Emillie safe was now one of her most basic instincts.
When Emillie said nothing, Luce finally asked, “Do you want to go?”
Emillie chewed on the inside of her cheek. Algorath was a city she had always dreamed of one night visiting. Now the opportunity had fallen into her lap, and she could not waste it—even if it meant putting herself in danger.
A beat of silence passed before she finally nodded. “Absolutely.”
Revelie squealed in delight. “I cannot wait!”
“Then I am coming as well,” Luce said.
Phulan gave her a false pout. “Do you not trust me to keep her safe?”
Cheeks flushing, Luce glowered at her. “Of course I do, but—”
“No worries,” Revelie cut in. “Ariadne already insisted we would have dhemon guards as well.”
Emillie gaped at her. “You already spoke with her?”
At that, Phulan laughed. “Oh, child, this has been a plan of mine for some time now. I’ve chosen the dhemons who’ll accompany us myself.”
Two dhemons stalked up behind them, as though on cue. The first had dhemon runes tattooed across the bridge of his nose and a quiet sadness that lingered around him like a cloud. Emillie remembered him as one who had flown into Laeton and brought back Revelie: Lhuka. His best friend, Gavrhil, had not returned, and he had slipped into the background due to his mourning.
The other dhemon, however, was considerably smaller than the others Emillie had grown accustomed to seeing. He stood just a touch taller than the average Caersan man, had half an ear missing, and looked between them with carefully tempered distaste.
Until his gaze landed on Revelie. Then his red eyes burned with an intensity that Emillie could instantly place.
Oh…fuck.
Her friend, however, appeared unperturbed and oblivious to the obvious hunger that seemed to emanate from him. Indeed, Revelie turned to them and gave Lhuka a pleasant smile, which she then passed on to the other dhemon. She did not so muchas cower at the sight of the wicked-looking dhemon all but consuming her with his eyes.
“I believe you met Lhuka already,” Phulan said, taking the tattooed dhemon’s hand in hers and giving it a tight squeeze, which he returned. Then she turned to the other and did not offer her the same embrace. Whether this was unintentional or because she had already taken note of his distraction, Emillie could not tell. Nonetheless, the mage continued, “And this is Jakhov. Both have been friends with Azriel, Madan, Whelan, and…” She hesitated but decided not to finish. “For quite some time. Jakhov, this is Emillie, Luce, and Revelie.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Emillie said, directing her words to Jakhov.
The dhemon grunted, but did not look at her, his attention still clinging to the other vampire. His lips moved silently, repeating three syllables again and again.
Only then did Revelie’s cheeks flush. “A pleasure, indeed, Jakhov.”
At that, the spell seemed to break. The dhemon sucked in a breath and closed his eyes as though to savor the way she said his name. A muscle in his jaw ticked. When he reopened his eyes, he cast his gaze to the floor and mumbled something in the dhemon language. Beside him, Lhuka responded in a whisper before Jakhov said, this time in the common tongue, “Nice meet you. Sorry. I no speak good.”
Now Phulan patted his hand like a mother soothing a child and crooned something in the dhemon language that Emillie had no hope of deciphering.
“You are doing quite well,” Revelie insisted, then glanced at Lhuka with a silent plea in her gaze. “Far better than any of us with your language.”
Lhuka chuffed, then whispered in Jakhov’s ear what Emillie could only assume was a translation of her words. Whatever itwas had the sinister dhemon’s cobalt face darkening a shade with a blush, his expression softening. His lips parted as he searched Revelie’s face before quickly looking away.
A knowing grin stretched Phulan’s lips again. “Well, then. Now that we all know one another…you all should get packed.”
Emillie whipped her attention back to the mage. “When do we leave?”
Standing, Phulan appeared entirely too pleased with herself. “Tonight.”
Spending time with Azriel was growing more and more difficult since Ariadne’s return toAuhla. As such, she took every opportunity to be with her husband. Breaking her fast, between meetings and training, and every morning when they lay down together for sleep. Despite her desire to be intimate, however, she could not find it in herself to even allow him to see her naked.
Something about her bare skin felt…unclean.
