Page 161 of The Call of Crimson
“My father used to bring me up here,” Ayden says. “Told me no one else knew about it and that it would always be our little secret.”
“He didn’t show Rowina?”
“Oh, gods no. She’s terrified of heights.” He chuckles quietly.
I glance sideways at him, then work up the nerve to ask, “What was he like?”
“If you ask my mother, she’d say he was a lot like me.”
“And if I ask you?”
He pauses, his smile softening. “I’d say he was a lot like Aurelius, actually.”
That catches me off guard. “Really?”
“Way more mischievous, though.” Ayden’s eyes grow distant for a moment as memory washes over him. “Ro and I definitely got that from him.”
“Aurelius has his moments of mischief.”
Ayden arches a skeptical brow.
“It’s true,” I insist. “When I was a teenager, we spent years trying to one-up each other. It started when I created a shadow blind and made him walk into a wall face-first. He broke his nose. It was quite funny.”
“I don’t know that he’d agree with that sentiment.”
I shrug, not really caring whether Aurelius found it funny, because I had. And still did. “Looking back, I think maybe he was only playing along to get my attention. He never pushed things further than I did.”
“You don’t say,” Ayden deadpans.
“Whatever,” I mutter. “Do you think that’s why Aurelius was appointed emissary to Prudia?”
“Because you tormented him with pranks for years? I hardly think that’s why your?—”
“That’s not what I meant.” I nudge his shoulder. “Do you think your father requested Aurelius return to Prudia because he saw himself in Aurelius? Wanted to be close in whatever way he could?”
Ayden goes quiet, face contemplative. “It’s possible. He was always treated better than the emissaries from other kingdoms. He definitely spent the most time here.”
“I’d always assumed he spent so much time away because he was avoiding me.”
Ayden shrugs. “Could be both.”
A few minutes pass in silence as we watch the sun climb higher in the morning sky.
“When we lost him, I think I lost a part of myself,” Ayden says, voice low.
“I can relate. My father was everything to me.”
“They say it gets easier with time, but that’s a lie.” Ayden pauses, running a hand through his curls still damp with sweat. “It’s been seven years and I still miss him.”
“It doesn’t get easier,” I agree quietly. “You just get better at carrying it. You find little moments of joy and cling to them for when the moments of grief threaten to consume you.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Those are wise words.”
“It’s just a lesson I’m still learning.” I push a loose auburn curl behind my ear, the breeze threatening to tug it free again. “Most nights, when I close my eyes, I see my mother take her last breath, or I see Nameah enjoying her final sunset. Sometimes, it’s Julian’s blank stare, or the flames of Nolan’s pyre.”
“That does get better with time,” he reassures me. “It may take years, and it will never completely go away, but there will come a day when you close your eyes and just see black.”
“I’m not sure I want that.”
