Page 164 of The Call of Crimson
“What’s wrong, Princess?” Rowina lets out a devilish cackle. “Afraid you’ll like it?”
“Much like your brother,” I murmur, washing my hands in the sink. “You’re incorrigible.”
She lifts a brow, her honey eyes sparkling. “Which one?”
“Yes,” I reply, sending us both into a fit of laughter.
We slide the new batch into the oven, pulling out the last round in the process, and settle into quiet waiting as the scent of almond and cinnamon fills the kitchen.
Once everything is baked and ready, we load it into a carriage and head for the edge of the city.
I admire the scenery as we travel, watching the vibrant reds, golds, and yellows from just a few weeks ago fade into a muted brown. There’s a chill to the air that whispers of the first snow.
A phantom ache stirs in my arm at the thought of winter, an old injury Elijah and I earned from an act of pure stupidity. But I count it as joy now. The pain makes me feel closer to him.
We step out into the waiting crowd, warm smiles greeting us from every direction.
“Come and get it!” Rowina yells. It turns into a laugh as children swarm her.
“Can I have an almond cookie?” a small girl with big brown doe eyes asks.
“Of course you can!” Rowina smiles, handing her two.
The little girl gives her a big, toothy grin, hugs Rowina’s leg, and dashes off with her prize.
Nearby, a boy asks for a muffin, followed by a toddler shouting, “Chocolate!”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face from seeing the children so excited. It suddenly makes sense why this tradition has persisted through the generations. Serving others in this capacity creates contentment in my soul.
Once they figure out I have my own basket of goodies, I’m swarmed as well.
“Thank you, Princess,” says a boy with blue eyes and freckles, his face lighting up as he bites into the sugar cookie.
Leaning down to his level, I whisper, “They’re the best, don’t you agree?”
He nods enthusiastically, so I slip him a second for confirming my long-held theory on superior cookie flavors.
As the young ones clear out, the adults approach, curious what the little heathens have left. I glance down and see we still have plenty, so I discreetly slip two more sugar cookies into my cloak pocket.
“I saw that,” Rowina chides.
“I don’t care, I do what I want!” I exclaim, my words rolling into devious laughter.
We finish dispersing the sugary treats and store the remaining cookies in the carriage.
“And now we shop.” Rowina loops her arm through mine and steers us toward a row of nearby businesses.
We stop in front of a shop with a sign reading “Books” above the door. It has a green façade, planter boxes in the windows, and a tiny bell that jingles as we enter the space.
It’s instantly warm and comforting, everything I love about libraries.
I begin browsing the shelves, letting the scents of paper and cinnamon settle me. After flipping through a few titles, I find one that catches my eye. From what I can tell, it sounds like something Ophelia might enjoy. A fallen goddess with no memory of who or what she is, fated to two males that are as similar as they are different, and their quest to rebuild a fallen kingdom and restore her memories.
I tuck the book under my arm and move on, searching for something for myself. Ayden said our physical training would lessen once the snow arrived, and I’ll have more free time in the coming months.
Eventually, I settle on a book I think I might relate to. The demon king kidnaps the human princess on the day of her wedding and holds her hostage to incite war. Technically, I’m trying to avoid war, but other parts hit a little too close. Plus, thelove interest has a filthy mouth from what I skimmed, and that’s enough to sell me.
“Well, hello there,” says a warm voice as I approach the counter. “You must be our new princess.”
