Page 173 of The Call of Crimson
Darian’s calloused fingers trace over the map, the wheels turning in his mind.
Several minutes pass in silence before I release a defeated sigh.
“Godsdammit. There’s something here, theremust be.”
“Or perhaps…” Darian says, dropping back into his chair. He rubs his jaw, his brow furrowing. “You aren’t as clever as everyone lets you believe.”
A low snarl rumbles from Aurelius, but Ayden speaks over him. “That’s enough, General.”
“Unbelievable,” Darian mutters, shaking his head.
“Lady Seris, has there been any progress with the tonic?” Ayden asks, redirecting the conversation.
The older female smiles, the corners of her lips not quite reaching her eyes. “I’m disappointed to report that a cure for the poison still evades us. We were, however, able to formulate a tonic that slows the spread. As far as we can tell, it extends the life expectancy by up to a few days. Just depending on when the tonic is administered.”
“You’re working on a cure?” I ask, recalling how Aurelius and Ophelia both failed to counter the poison’s effects.
“We’retrying,” Lady Seris iterates.
“The results have been less than ideal,” Ayden explains.
“It’s something, though. Right?” I can’t help the traces of hope that linger in my tone.
Ayden squeezes my hand. “It’s a start.”
The meeting continues, questions and updates flying faster than I can keep up, while I simultaneously fixate on the map still spread on the table. The pattern is there. I just haven’t found it yet.
I manage to pay attention enough to learn that the other blond male is named Oren, and he is, in fact, the brother of Talon. They are the ruling lords in the town south of the capital and are responsible for crafting the majority of the weapons used by the Prudian army. Lady Seris is a healer with a family-run apothecary in Andhull. The eldest male with the graying hair is Lord Fenwick. He served on King Ayden I’s council and has a knack for battle strategy. His body no longer allows him to train, but his mind remains sharp.
As the meeting draws to a close, there’s one absence I can’t understand.
“Does your mother not attend these meetings?” I ask Ayden as the council members file out of the room.
“She normally does, but there were matters that took her away from Elentia today.”
Our walk down the hall is quiet for several minutes until Ayden finally breaks the silence. “I didn’t want to bring it up in the meeting because there’s not much we can do for now, but reports are coming in from Rimor. The attacks on your borders have become severe, Princess.”
Nails dig crescent moons into the palm of my hand, the frustration at my situation boiling my blood. “How severe?”
“More towns are being evacuated, and food has become scarce.” He slips his hands into the pockets of his trousers, tension radiating from him in waves. “Farms and livestock are burning as your people flood the capital.”
My footsteps falter, eyes squeezing shut as I fight the injustice and frustration at not understanding why. I struggle toremain in control, my shadows twirling around my fingers and forearm in thin, angry wisps.
A few deep breaths later, I regain composure, recalling the shadows. “There is nothing I can do here,” I confirm.
Ayden reaches for me, his hand grasping my shoulder in an attempt to soothe. There is no solace to be found in a situation like this. I don’t want to be comforted when I carry the guilt for my kingdom being in the situation to begin with.
Shrugging him off, I sigh. “Those are stillmy people,Ayden.” My eyes connect with his. “They’re my responsibility, and I am failing them. So, I’m pleading with you, Prince. Do something. Anything.”
The corner of his lips quirk in a subtle smirk. “I never thought this would be the first time I’d hear you beg, but fuck, does it sound good coming from you.”
“I draw the line at getting on my knees,” I retort, crossing my arms. “I bow for no male.”
“Very well. You don’t have to be dramatic.” His tone softens. “I already sent what food and supplies we could to your people. I wish I could spare the soldiers, but we’re stretched thin as it is.”
It wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to suffice.
“Thank you,” I breathe, shoulders sagging in relief.
