Page 99 of The Call of Crimson
“It could save your life someday.”
“Whatever,” I yawn. “I’m done for the night.”
“Take this seriously,” Ayden snaps, sharper than I’ve ever heard from him.
“I am taking this seriously!” I shout back. “But I’m exhausted and mentally depleted after everything. I’ve hit my limit today. ”
“I’m sorry, love.” His face softens, voice dropping. “That was a bit harsh of me. I understand you’re tired, so we’ll resume this in a few days.”
“Thank you,” I nod, half in apology. Another yawn escapes me.
“How about I make a deal with you?” he says suddenly.
I eye him curiously. “What kind of deal?”
“Starting tomorrow, I’ll start using illusions around you. For every one you catch, you get a piece of your clothing back.”
“Deal,” I say immediately.
“I’m not done yet. Be careful how quickly you agree to things,” he says, holding up his hand. “Think about all our encounters in the past. If you can correctly name all the times I used one around you, then I’ll return your entire trunk.”
“This seems like a pretty lucrative deal for me.”
His eyes sparkle with mischievousness. “For every time you miss an illusion or are wrong, you owe me a kiss. On the lips, to be specific.”
“I suddenly like this deal a lot less,” I grunt.
“Your choice, Princess.” He smirks. “Do you want your pants back?”
I hesitate for only a second. “My intuition says this is an incredibly bad idea.”
“Are you going to start listening to it?” Ayden asks.
“Not on this,” I sigh. “I hate these dresses and want my clothing back too damn bad. You have a deal.”
He leans in closer, tilting my chin up to him. “You know, we typically seal deals in Prudia with a kiss.”
I dodge out of range before he can try. “Not a chance, asshole. I’m going to bed,” I call over my shoulder as I head for the door.
Behind me, his laughter follows.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
OPHELIA
My skin blisters and cracks as lightning races through my muscles, filling me with a familiar and bitter pain. A nauseatingly sweet scent permeates the air from the blackened flesh of my arms.
“You stupid, worthless female,” my father hisses. “Layne was the only child worth anything, and now he’s dead because of you.”
I gasp, fighting to stay conscious through the pain. Words are impossible, so I let him rattle on.
“Layne’s Gift was at least useful in negotiating trade and alliances. You can’t even create a Faerie light,” he sneers. “I could’ve at least used you to secure an alliance through marriage, but you had to go and give yourself to the court whore.”
I can take his insults and attacks on me. But Elijah? No. He needs to leave Elijah out of it.
A surge of strength fills me, and I stand abruptly. My fingers wrap around his throat and begin squeezing.
The scene shifts.
