Page 136 of The Call of Crimson
“You figured wrong,” I say lightly. “My mother actually made me wear color the last time you escorted me to a ball.”
He chuckles. “That does not surprise me in the least.”
A sly grin plays at the corner of his lips before he comments, “And what I said about you at the last ball still stands.”
“And what was that?” I ask as we slow to a stop just behind Aurelius and Charlotte.
Charlotte is dressed in a low-cut ball gown that starts as a deep red and gradually fades into a shimmering gold. Her shoulders are bare, but long sleeves cover her thin arms. Aurelius’ arm is wrapped loosely around her lower back, brushing the exposed skin.
“The colors of House Mordet suit you beautifully,” Ayden whispers against my ear. Then, softer, more wicked, “But you still look even better out of them, love.”
“Ouch!” Charlotte gasps, stepping away from Aurelius.
I catch the angry red mark blooming on her porcelain skin where his hand must have gripped too tightly.
“Aw, Charlotte,” I say sweetly. “It’s such a shame you're so delicate. At least the mark blends in with the color of your beautiful dress.”
She shoots me a seething look, but before she can respond, Aurelius pulls her forward as they’re announced.
“That was rather cruel of you,” Ayden comments.
“So is your constant taunting and using me to hurt your brother.”
“Is that truly what you think?” He asks, face solemn. “That I’m trying to hurt Aurelius?”
“That is certainly how it appears, Ayden.”
Ayden sighs. “Yes, I suppose it may appear that way,” he admits. “But I’m not trying to hurt either of you, Breyla.”
Before I can ask what he is trying to do, we’re ushered forward.
The herald announces us.“Princess Breyla Rosaria, betrothedof Prince Ayden,future Queen of Prudia.”
A wave of applause rises up to meet us.
The ballroom is filled with royals, nobles, and common folk alike, all masked and glittering under chandeliers of a thousand candles.
Ayden introduces me to what feels like half the kingdom, and I make an earnest effort at remembering their names. I’m not sure what good it will do since everyone here is masked. Though my mask may not be hiding my identity well, others certainly are.
I’m flooded with well-wishes for our marriage and questions on everything from the style of my dress to whether I’m looking forward to my first night with the prince. The last question leaves me momentarily floored, and thankfully, Ayden intervenes before I’m forced to answer.
Ayden, ever the savior, swoops in with an offered hand. “Shall we dance?”
“Please,” I nearly beg.
Ayden sweeps me onto the floor in a traditional waltz.
I find the steps without thinking, grateful for something,anything, familiar.
“You look overwhelmed, love,” he says, smiling softly.
I bite my lower lip. “Maybe just a bit.”
“I thought you’d be accustomed to this.”
“To which part?” I ask dryly. “Being engaged? Balls with nearly a thousand guests? Or the questions from strangers regarding your bedroom skills?”
Ayden nearly stumbles mid-step, laughing so hard he has to grip my waist tighter.
