Page 43 of The Call of Crimson
Two thrones with curved golden frames and black cushioned seats sit low on the dais. The larger of the two remains empty, waiting for Prince Ayden to claim his birthright. On the other is a female who is nothing short of breathtaking.
Piercing amber eyes framed by dark lashes assess me the moment they lock with mine. Long raven hair flows down her back, landing in loose curls. A petite gold and black crown sitsupon her brow, and a modest black dress made of silk hugs every curve of her body. High cheekbones, skin the color of moonlight, and rosy lips round out the Queen’s features. I don’t need to see a portrait of the late king to know that Ayden and Rowina’s beauty comes from their mother.
Her gaze is calculating but not cruel. That is, until it’s turned on Aurelius. Gold eyes turn cold as they narrow on the male beside me.
Our party halts before the dais, waiting on bated breath for the queen to speak. As she lays eyes on her son, they light up and fill with warmth.
“My son.” She smiles, and it reaches her eyes. She quickly rises from the throne and closes the distance between them, wrapping her petite arms around his large frame.
“Hello, Mother,” Ayden greets her, wrapping his arms around her in return. Seeing their embrace makes my heart ache. What I wouldn’t give for just one more hug like that with my mother.
Stepping back, the queen pats Ayden’s cheek, her gaze roving over him with a mixture of pride and calculation.. “It is good to have you home. Your journey was uneventful, I trust?”
“We are here safe, are we not?” Ayden responds without really answering.
“Indeed,” she hums in agreement, glancing at me for the first time with expectation.
Ayden clears his throat, stepping back and reaching a hand around my back. He gently guides me forward to face her.
“May I introduce you to my fiancée, Princess Breyla Rozaria. Breyla, this is my mother, Queen Josephina Mordet.”
“Hello, dear,” Queen Josephina says, making no move towards me.
“Queen Josephina,” I greet, tipping my head just slightly enough to be polite while acknowledging that I didn’t view her ashigher in position. I may not have been crowned before leaving Rimor, but that made me no less a queen.
And her equal.
Her eyes inspect every inch of me, weighing and measuring the female set to marry her son and take her place as queen. “You are beautiful,” she says at last.
“I am also smart,” I add, voice cool. “And rather impressive with a sword.”
A faint tightening at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sure those traits will also be valuable in producing heirs.”
“Mother,” Ayden warns. “You have just met. Can you please not thrust your talk of heirs on her yet?”
Ignoring her son’s outburst, she continues, “Did you not allow her to change out of her travel leathers before arriving?”
Not liking being spoken about rather than spoken to, I interject, “She prefers leathers, actually.”
The queen’s face contorts into something between horror and confusion. Rowina stifles a laugh somewhere behind me as her mother’s dark eyebrows nearly reach her hairline.
Ayden’s face lights in amusement, but he remains quiet.
After a few minutes of stunned silence, Queen Josephina finally speaks, “The ladies of this court do not parade themselves in the clothes of males.”
My fingers curl into the palms of my hands as I feel anger flaring inside me. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I am a queen in my own right and general of the Rimorian army,” I start, fighting to keep my tone even. “I willnotbe told what to wear. I will parade myself through this court naked as the day I was born, if I so please.”
Amusement fills the faces of everyone around me except the queen. Her face darkens as she spits the next words at me, “A would-be queen without a crown and a former general. I will not relinquish my throne to a female so improper and uncouth.”
A full belly laugh erupts at the notion of me on her throne. “Did you truly not know the female your son bargained for? This is me, Queen Josephina.” I throw my arms wide and give her a slight mocking bow. “I am rough, loud, foul-mouthed, strong-willed, hate dresses, eat what I please, bed whom I please, and make no apologies for any of it. I will not change for you, and I do not want your godsdamned throne.”
The queen rears back as if I had assaulted her with more than just my truth. “If this is how you were raised, it is no wonder your kingdom is in the state that it is.”
Her words are venomous and vile. They sting like I’ve been slapped. It was one thing to attack my person. I harbor no regrets and make no apologies for the female that I am. In fact, it’s something I usually take pride in. But insulting my country and my parents is taking it too far.
A look passes her face that tells me she knows it was too far, but her pride will never allow her to admit it.
“Yes, well, perhaps you should have left me there,” I say quietly. The rage inside me turns sour and cold. “I never asked to be here.”
