Page 223 of The Call of Crimson
“I asked him to play a game with me on one of the cliffs overlooking the river.”
I adjust in bed, mirroring her position. “What game?”
She grins widely. “Truth or dare.”
“You dared him to jump off the cliff?”
“I did, and when he refused, I shoved him off instead.” She smirks. “Then I followed him in.”
I gasp. “Was he mad?”
“He was livid, but once I showed him how to tread water and swim to shore, he was fine.”
“Remind me never to ask you for lessons on… well, anything,” I tease.
Breyla laughs. “I like to think of myself as a particularly effective teacher.”
“You’re scary, is what you are,” I say, faking a shudder.
She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Tell me something about Layne.”
“He’s the one who taught me to love reading.” Fondness fills my tone. It had been a long time since I could recall something about him that didn’t make me immediately cry.
“Tell me more.”
“I struggled to read. My mother showed me the basics, but she died when I was young. My father let my education slip, never bringing in a tutor after she was gone.”
“He’s always been a piece of shit, then?”
“Pretty much,” I agree. “Layne refused to let that stand. He was only two years older, but he taught me everything he learned. Since my reading skills were so basic, I often gave up on books before I’d even tried.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Layne thought so, too. That’s why he started reading to me every night. He would pick the most captivating stories, read them out loud to me, and act out each part. Every character had their own voice, and he would make sound effects that went along with the story. The whole thing was a production.”
I smile fondly at the memory. “Eventually, I became so enamored with the story, or rather the way he was telling it, that I would want to find out what happened next. I couldn’t wait for the next night’s reading, so I would force myself to read ahead.”
“That’s amazing,” Breyla says.
“Yeah, it really was.” I sigh wistfully. “It was hard at first, but over time, it got easier and easier until reading became like breathing.”
She smiles softly. “I love that.”
“The last gift he gave me was a first-edition copy of my favorite book. It was signed by the author and had gilded edges. It’s stunning.” I frown, remembering that the book had been left in Rimor, and I would likely never see it again.
Breyla’s brows shoot up, her eyes flaring wide. “That reminds me!”
She jumps up, going to the trunk at the foot of the bed. Flipping it open, she rummages through before pulling something free and climbing back into bed.
“I picked this up for you for Winter Solstice,” she says, handing me a book. “But I forgot I had it with… everything that happened.”
“Thank you, Breyla.” I open it, brushing my fingers across the pages. “I feel bad that I didn’t bring you anything.”
She brushes me off. “Don’t. Your presence is all I need.”
I hold the book close to my chest, my arms curling tightly around it. “I can’t wait to read it.”
“I expect a full report once you’ve finished it. It sounded intriguing when I skimmed it in Collin’s bookshop.”
