Page 77 of The Call of Crimson
I wait until he’s almost on top of me, then pivot in a tight twirl. At the last second, I crouch low and sweep my leg in front of his feet.
Darian stumbles, arms flying out to balance himself, and I don’t waste a breath.
I leap onto his back, my arm snapping around his throat. He thrashes violently, but I tighten my grip, locking my arm until it aches.
“Submit,” I whisper in his ear.
He doesn't.
Of course he doesn't.
I hold tighter, feeling the muscles in his body tense, then slowly, alarmingly, go slack.
“Oh fuck,” I breathe, realization dawning too late.
Gravity pulls us down hard, and this time it's my body that slams into the ground first. Pain sears through my spine, my grip loosening out of sheer instinct.
But before either of us can move?—
Crack.
The sharp, sickening sound of breaking bone cuts through the courtyard, followed by Ayden’s furious wail.
Our sparring forgotten, I scramble upright, just in time to see a castle guard hit the ground, lifeless, eyes staring blankly at the sky.
I bolt toward the commotion, finding Aurelius standing rigid as more guards rush to surround him.
“What did you do?” I whisper.
Aurelius meets my gaze with a terrifying calm. “What was necessary,” he says, utterly emotionless.
I search his face, trying to discern what might be running through that mind of his.
Aurelius didn't kill without cause. But gods, what possible cause justified this?
“Why the fuck was this necessary?” Ayden roars.
“Yes,” Darian growls. “Explain to me why murdering one of my guards was necessary.”
Aurelius turns to Ayden and spits, “Would you have preferred a dead fiancée instead?”
Ayden’s face darkens. “Guards, restrain Prince Aurelius and escort him to his chambers. He’s confined there until further notice.”
Guards immediately restrain Aurelius, but he doesn’t fight them. He complies, letting them escort him inside the castle.
I crouch by the body at my feet. There’s nothing remarkable about the fallen guard, but he was a person. Someone who lived and breathed. Someone who just died.
Gently, I close his vacant eyes.
Something glints at his belt. A knife, sleek and unfamiliar, unlike anything issued to Prudia’s soldiers.
I slip it free, raising it to my nose. The horribly familiar metallic scent hits me like a blow.
“Ayden,” I croak. “This is poisoned.”
“Seven hells,” he curses, moving to my side
“It’s the same poison,” I whisper numbly. “The one that killed Nameah, Layne, and my mother.”
