Page 130 of The Call of Crimson
I offer her a bored look. “It’s not as if I was given a choice.”
“That’s enough,” Ayden cuts in. “Let’s begin.”
“I think the first order of business should be deciding whether your engagement ball shall have a guest list,” Charlie says sweetly, “or if we shall open the castle doors to all of Elentia to celebrate with you.”
My mind stumbles over the wordsengagement ball.
Ayden had said this was an autumn equinox ball, but it sounded like there was far more going on here.
“I thought this was an autumn equinox ball?” Breyla questions before I get the chance to do anything rash, like call him a liar in front of this entire room.
“I did say that,” Ayden confirms, shooting a sharp look at Charlie.
Judging by her poorly hidden smirk, she knew exactly what she was doing when she asked that question.
“It is both,” the queen adds. “Certainly you must be excited! We should share the happy couple’s joy with everyone. The doors will be open to all.”
Breyla swallows hard, fighting back the normal sharp-tongued remark that would have come from her. Remembering her bargain with Ayden, she pastes a wide, glittering smile on her face and says sweetly, “Of course. It would be selfish to keep the joy to ourselves. All are welcome.”
Playing into her farce, Ayden leans down and brushes a kiss to her cheek before turning his attention back to the council. “Then open it shall be,” he agrees. He leans into her, whispering something inaudible.
It’s too low for me to catch, but I sense the lie roll right off his tongue, whatever it is.
Several more matters are discussed as the minutes tick on. It’s decided that it shall be a masquerade. There will be four courses of food, entertainers brought in from surrounding towns, and dancing, of course.
When they inform me I shall escort Charlotte, I suggest Rowina instead.
Predictably, I lose that battle.
The last matter of business is attire. Emery, a seamstress from town, steps forward. “I have brought the designs you requested for Princess Breyla, My Queen.”
“Delightful,” the queen replies. “Let’s see them.”
Emery pulls out the first dress, a black shimmering gown threaded with subtle gold overlays that shimmer in the light.
The moment I see it, I know it’s her.
The next is a gold A-line ball gown. It’s eye-catching, but doesn’t hold a candle to the black.
“I think the gold would complement your hair so beautifully,” the queen gushes.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Breyla says dutifully, but it lacks enthusiasm.
“Well, go on then,” Rowina encourages. “Try it on.”
Reluctantly, Breyla stands, following the seamstress from the room.
A few silent moments pass before they return. A gasp leaves the queen at seeing Breyla in the gown. Meanwhile, my heart sinks.
Breyla is beautiful in whatever she wears, but in that gown, it’s not her I see. Standing before me is Genevieve with auburn hair. Breyla’s emerald eyes shift to sky blue, the freckles vanishing before my eyes.
“You look lovely tonight,” I said, offering my arm as Gen greeted me outside the ballroom.
“Thank you, Aurelius.” Her smile was soft, wistful, as she adjusted the collar of my shirt. “The red lining suits you. You belong in our colors.”
I smirked, knowing the real reason I wore red. I couldn’t outwardly claim Breyla, but the signs were there if you knew where to look.
“It should be a crime how good you look in gold,” I teased.
