Not for the first time, Ariadne wished she could speak with Kall. Over their short time together, her late friend had been able to talk her through more than just how to throw a punch. He stood by her side as she faced her past, went against every societal norm she knew, and tried to piece together her broken husband. If there was anyone who knew what to say or do as she now stood against her home as they waged war, it would be Kall.
The thought of him made her heart ache the same way it did the night he died, and before she understood what she was doing, Ariadne made her way to the place that had set that horrible course of events into action.
Auhla’s dungeon housed two dhemons, both of whom had attempted to kill her. It was also home to too many memories that haunted her. Despite the cell in which she had been imprisoned being the place of her terrors, and that torture chamber which caused her so much physical pain, it was the latter that now made her stomach churn for an entirely new reason.
Ariadne surveyed the space, complete with its cold forge, chains hanging from the ceiling, and crimson-stained stones. None of those things gave her pause. Instead, it was the table at the back that drew her attention and had her crossing the distance, treading on her own dried blood and making the chains chime like a death toll.
The table now lay empty, but when she last saw it with Kall at her back, it held the one thing she should have left behind: Ehrun’s dagger.
How foolish she had been, thinking she could save Ehrun for Kall—to give a brother back to her friend. Had it been herwords that caused him to rediscover an inkling of hope? Had her insistence that they could bring Ehrun back from his all-consuming darkness made Kall pause in his final moments? Were her words what he heard as he raised his ax against his brother?
Fuck.
“What are you doing in here?”
Ariadne jumped, not unlike when Kall had found her there. This time, however, she turned to find a different dhemon. The past clashed with the present as Azriel took a step into the room, his red eyes blazing with worry.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she exhaled long and hard, the air burning as it passed. She shook her head and whispered with all honesty, “I don’t know.”
At first, Azriel did not move. She did not blame him. Their moments together these past weeks had been nothing short of tense—filled to the brim with all varieties of emotion, pain, and uncertainty. Too often, she pulled away from his touches, allowing him to hold her only in ways she could handle in that moment. Too often, she broke down in ways he did not know how to mend except through an embrace she more often than not shucked off.
When he looked over his shoulder as though contemplating leaving her there alone, Ariadne let the words rush from her before she could think too hard. “This is where I found the dagger that killed Kall. It was Ehrun’s.”
Azriel whipped his attention back to her, eyes widening. “My love—”
“This room holds a lot of memories.” She touched the table, then stepped closer to him, stopping at the chains to stroke the metal links almost lovingly. “And somehow the worst of them is the one I question myself the most: am I the reason he is dead?”
Cursing, Azriel closed the rest of the distance and took her face in his hands. “You are not to blame for anything.”
Despite the fire in her throat, Ariadne felt no prickle of tears in her eyes. “I hate this room. I hate what it did to me, how it changed me, how it made me wonder what I have done to deserve all of this.”
“If I could take your pain,” Azriel said, “I would do so in a heartbeat.”
Ariadne pulled back to look at him fully. “You carry enough pain for us both.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she rose onto her tiptoes and, hooking her fingers around a horn, silenced him with a kiss. A beat passed before he melted into her, allowing himself to be pulled closer as she slid her free hand up his chest to stroke her fingers over the veins running up his neck.
Pulling back just far enough to speak, Azriel asked, “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” she breathed without a second thought.
“Let’s go upstairs and—”
She dragged him closer again, entangling their tongues with an even more fierce kiss before whispering against his lips, “Take me here. Right now.”
Azriel eased back to search her face.
“Do not ask me if I am certain,” she whispered, holding his horn firmly to drag him further into the room. “I amquitecertain of this.”
Why? Why was she so insistent on indulging in Azriel at that moment—in that place? Ariadne could not fathom it herself, yet she knew with every beat of her heart that she needed him then. Needed to feel him in every way a wifecouldfeel her husband. Perhaps it was to erase the horrors of the past. Perhaps it was to diminish the then with the now. Perhaps it was merely to remind herself that she was not eternally broken and that a man shehated could not destroy the woman she had come to love within herself.
“Ariadne…” The way he said her voice took her right back to her family home when they had been alone in the library, and she accused him of abandoning her. Each syllable held the weight of the world, drawing out his love for her in four perfect beats.
“Azriel,” she breathed, then pressed her lips to his again.
He groaned in response, stooping just enough to cup the backs of her thighs and lift her from her feet. The next moment, she sat on the table at the back of the room, and Azriel dragged the skirt of her dress up over her legs. The feeling of his skin brushing against hers set her flesh aflame, leaving trails of heat along her exposed limbs.
Gods, she had not realized just how much she needed this—neededhim. How much she craved his touch and lamented the time she spent seeking nothing as though by cutting herself off from the world, she could heal.
