Page 227 of The Call of Crimson
His words from our last conversation ring in my ears: “Until now, you were simply existing. It’s up to you to decide what you do from here.”
“I decided to start living again, General,” I reply.
The look on his face can’t exactly be described as happy, but I see the slightest bit of respect cross his features as he nods to me in understanding.
“Now that everyone is present,” Ayden says, voice steady. “Let’s begin.”
Fifteen minutes in, and my head is already pounding.
The amount that I had missed during my mourning is overwhelming.
The total death count was five. No more bodies had appeared since Ayden had been called away in the middle of the night a week ago.
But people are scared, and fear is never rational. That’s what worries me most.
“I’m only familiar with one of the victims.” I glance toward Darian. “Can someone please give me a brief accounting of the others?”
Darian rattles off the details of each victim, noting their age, gender, name, profession, and whether the victims were married.
“They were all found within the city walls?” I ask.
“They were,” Ayden confirms.
I consider all the information for a moment, recalling what I had learned about Holt from his widow and children. “Aside from Holt, did any of you actually know the victims?”
“Most certainly not,” Queen Josephina answers tersely, speaking for the first time this meeting.
Lady Seris shifts, folding her hands in front of her before clearing her throat. “I knew of one of the victims, or rather, how he was known.”
“How was he known?” I ask.
“Not favorably,” she replies. “He was fond of the drink and a brute. A few of the taverns refused to serve him because of the fighting and his treatment of female patrons. A year ago, a serving girl died tragically. It was suspected he was to blame, as she had turned down his advances quite publicly earlier that evening, but there was no proof.”
Disgust churns my gut, my upper lip curling. “It sounds like someone did the kingdom a service with that one.”
The queen gasps, her eyes flaring wide. “Pardon me?”
I drag my gaze to her, quirking a brow. “What part of my statement was unclear?”
“The future queen of this kingdom cannot be found condoning the cold-blooded murder of one of its citizens.”
I laugh, the sound completely humorless. “I’m not condoning murder, Your
Majesty. I simply do not tolerate the mistreatment of females or threats against those under my protection. Make no mistake, had I caught him in the act, I would have taken care of the bastard myself.”
“Your hands are stained red with the blood of your actions,” the queen accuses.
“I never pretended otherwise.” I shrug. “I’m not the delusional one at this table trying to make me something I’m not.”
The queen seethes in silence, her rage simmering beneath her polished exterior.
And then, shockingly, Darian speaks. “Her hands are no more blood-stained than my own.”
Darian does not defendme, of all people. My mouth actually drops open, unsure what to say.
“Breyla and I may not agree on much,” he says, voice even. “But had I been there when Piper was attacked, it would be his body we burned. Not hers. And I wouldn’t have lost a single night of sleep over it.”
His calm delivery only underscores the conviction in his words. There’s a fierce loyalty in him, one I hadn’t truly recognized before.
