Page 83 of The Call of Crimson
“That’s a lot to live up to.”
“Perhaps it is, but I’ll accept nothing less.” I lower my voice. “He also broke my trust by keeping secrets, and I don’t forgive easily.”
“Did you ever consider,” Ayden says carefully, “that maybe he had a good reason for keeping secrets?”
I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Sure, let’s entertain that notion for a moment. Tell me, Ayden, what possible good reason could there be for hiding the marriage contract from me?”
Ayden shrugs, picking at the last of his food. “Perhaps he felt it wasn’t his secret to share.”
“Even if that were the case, which I don’t believe it is, why continue pursuing me? Why care for me, fuck me, fill my head with pretty lies about how I was his, knowing none of it could last?”
“Fair point,” he frowns. “That does seem rather cruel.”
“Now you know,” I say quietly. “How he won my heart… and how he lost it.”
“I will be sure to learn from his mistakes,” Ayden promises.
“Are we done here, Prince?” I ask, sharper than I intend. Pain and bitterness constrict my chest, wrapping tightly around my ribs.
“We’re done with breakfast,” he says, standing. “But we still have more to do today.”
He leaves a generous pile of gold on the table, grabbing a pastry for Rowina on the way out.
The morning has mellowed into a golden afternoon, sun high and warm against my skin. I breathe deeply, curling my toes in my flats, longing to slip them off and feel the earth between my toes.
I'm about to do just that when the sharp crash of splintering wood rings out, and a feminine scream pierces the air.
My eyes lock with Ayden briefly before we both take off toward the sound of screaming. The scene that greets us is nothing short of horrific.
A young female lies pinned beneath a broken carriage, her thigh crushed, a massive chunk of wood driven deep into her muscle and bone.
Three males struggle to lift the carriage while she sobs in agony.
I don’t even think, I just act.
My shadows surge under the carriage, pooling and solidifying, helping the males lift. As soon as the weight shifts, Ayden dives in, hauling the female free.
The moment her body clears, the wreckage crashes back down.
She’s pale, too pale, her wide eyes fixated on the bloody stake jutting from her thigh. One of the males lunges for it, hands reaching to pull it free.
“Stop!” Ayden and I bark in unison.
He freezes, looking between us, confused and desperate.
“If you pull that out now, she’ll bleed out in minutes,” I explain, then turn to Ayden. “We need Aurelius, and a healer, preferably, but a castle physician if you don’t have one.”
He doesn’t hesitate, spinning to bark orders to the nearest guard, who bolts off on horseback.
The female stares up at me, blinking slowly as the shock sets in. “Who are you?” she asks.
“My name is Breyla.” I kneel beside her. “What’s yours?”
“Rochelle.” Her voice quivers. “Am I going to die?”
I thread my fingers through hers, squeezing them reassuringly. “Not today,” I say with a soft smile.
“You’re going to be okay,” Ayden adds, gently brushing her sweat-drenched hair from her forehead.
