Then he gathered it all into his fist and yanked it taut before drawing the knife through the length. Camilla did not move. Did not speak. Did not cry. He hacked away at the one thing he knew she would never forget without physically harming her and drawing the attention of her family: her beauty.
When he finished, he tossed the golden locks onto her lap and dropped the knife onto the table. Loren leaned down and pinched her face in his hands again, forcing her shimmering gaze up at him. “Now you will think of me every time you look in the mirror.”
Loren shoved her away and stalked for the door. On the far side, he said to the guards there, “She is not to come out unless I call upon her myself.”
As he slammed the door closed, the sound of a blade sticking into wood echoed back. Camilla had thrown the knife at his back.
Chapter 21
The journey to Eastwood, timed with the hope of gaining control of Monsumbra—and, therefore, the Keonis Tree—before Noxidium, had Ariadne on edge. Her last descent from the Keonis Mountains to set foot in Valenul ended with her riding away on Loren’s horse. While it had been entirely her fault, the very idea of returning to her home kingdom once more had her stomach churning.
At least this time they crossed the borders to take back what rightfully belonged to the dhemons.
Razer and Almandine flew overhead as she and Azriel remained at the front of the army. Had they ridden through the sky, they would have made quick work of the journey. As it was, it took them three days to navigate all their people down the mountain paths and through the forests of the foothills. Three days of wondering just how reckless it all was. Three days of wondering what would happen next.
Wearing the Noct provided Ariadne the ability to navigate through the daylight hours without problems. With the seasons plummeting quickly towards winter, the length of sunlit hours was waning, and with them, the clear skies that would normally pose an issue even with the stone.
Margot Caldwell, however, did not have the other half. When she insisted upon joining them— “Howdareyou consider leaving me behind?” —the dhemons ofAuhlabanded together to put together sides and a roof on a wagon pulled by a pair of horses so she could travel without fear of contracting aegrisolis. That the dhemons looked up to Margot so thoughtfully underscored just how much they wished for peace as well. She had become something of a grandmother to all of them, and they loved her for it.
Ariadne certainly did. Margot was the grandmother she never had.
The trees thinned as the foothills eased into level ground. In the distance, specks of light shone from windows marking the village in the dying light. A halo of color spread out from the horizon where the sun dropped out of sight.
Beside her, Azriel called for a halt. Without needing to say anything more, the troops spread out from behind them and got to work setting up camp. After several nights of travel, the process had become second nature to the army—for everyone, that is, except Ariadne.
She floundered, as she always did in these situations, still not accustomed to the way large canvas tents were set up despite Azriel’s repeated instructions. Like the other nights, Liulund found her and put his fae magic to use. That she could not assist her husband in something as simple as erecting their tent made her more frustrated than she cared to admit.
By the time camp was made, a dozen winged shadows swept across the stars. One called to Ariadne, and a rush of euphoriamade her stomach lurch as Almandine wove through the air. Heartbeats later, two massive shadows joined, circling above before gliding to the open space to the south of them.
“More are coming,” Almandine said. “Emillie is almost back.”
Images of two dragons escorting no less than five dozen figures through a low mountain pass from the desert flickered through Ariadne’s mind. She blinked hard, still not accustomed to seeing others’ memories as though she had experienced them herself.
“How long?” Ariadne tracked her bondheart as she ducked and weaved through the other young dragons.
“An hour.”
Razer’s rumble of a voice cut through. “More likely two or three.”
A moment later, Azriel was at her side. “You should eat, my love.”
Turning to her husband, Ariadne slid in close, wrapping her arms around his middle. He breathed deep, chest expanding beneath her cheek, and tucked her tight against him. Steady though his arms were, she could feel the ache through their connective bonds.
“Are you well?” she whispered.
Azriel kissed the top of her head. “I march into battle tomorrow with my heart bearing a sword beside me.” He paused, squeezing her a little more. “No. I’m not well at all.”
“All will be well,” she said, gripping him back and shoving away the uneasiness from his words. That was certainly one way to look at it. Such a metaphor held true for her, as well. Though she did not risk insanity were he to fall.
At least not in the same manner as he.
“Do you promise?” he murmured.
What else could she do other than nod? Ariadne’s head bobbed, cheek sliding against his chest as she said, “I promise.”
After standing together a little longer, she allowed him to pull her towards the fire outside their tent. The circle in which they were positioned included others such as H’axinhum, Kholp, Liulund, Edira, and her siblings, plus an extra tent positioned just beside them for Phulan, Emillie, and Luce.
The food served was, as it had been during travel, not the most savory. Ben, the lycan who had cooked alongside Kall atAuhla, did the best with what he had and the skills that he possessed. Nonetheless, the vegetable soup was not as flavorful as Ariadne would have preferred. She still ate it without complaint.
