Page 17 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)
CHAPTER NINE
brEYLA
W e enter the grand hall of the castle, and I’m struck by the most unexpected, yet tasteful, opulence. Where I imagined all black velvet and gold accents to mirror the colors of House Mordet, I instead see something warmer and welcoming.
Open windows framed by black drapes flood the room with soft, golden light. The white marble floors gleam, subtle hints of black and gold streaking through it. The rays catch gold in the marble, creating a soft, ethereal sparkle.
I’m accustomed to the stone floors and walls of Rimor. It was dark and sometimes cold, but it was home.
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 sits upon 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 as higher 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 will not be 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.”
“You’re royalty, dear.” The queen frowns. “You aren’t afforded choices like that.”
I think her words are meant to sound like an apology, but all I hear is pity as a little more of my freedom is stripped away. A kernel of resentment grows for the prince who brought me here and the father who sentenced me to be his wife.
“Staff, please take my future daughter-in-law’s trunks to the prince’s rooms,” Queen Josephina calls.
Before I can respond, my things are being taken out of the hall. “The prince’s rooms? Do I not get chambers of my own?”
“You are to be wed. Why would you need chambers of your own?”
“So, you find females wearing pants improper,” I snap, “but unwed couples sharing chambers is perfectly acceptable?”
A light chuckle sounds from her nearly perfect lips. “Of course it is improper, my dear. But Prudia needs heirs, and if you insist on bedding whom you want , I will do what I must to ensure that the heir is not some bastard.”
At the word, her crystalline eyes cut sharply toward Aurelius, her meaning clear.
“Not the heir talk again, Mother,” Ayden groans, even as Aurelius steps forward.
“If you have something to say to me, Your Majesty,” Aurelius drawls, “just say it.”
While I’m grateful the attention is off of me for the moment, I do not wish her cruelty turned on him, either.
“I will never understand why my son thought it wise to bring his father’s bastard into this court,” Queen Josephina says coolly, “but you are not welcome here, Aurelius.”
“I have been unwanted in some fashion most of my life,” Aurelius says nonchalantly.
“Your sunny disposition was hardly something I counted on, nor do I care if you want me here.” His smile sharpens, cruel and knowing.
“But I am curious, is it me being a bastard or the shattered illusion of your not-so-perfect dead husband that bothers you more?”
“Watch your tongue, brother,” Ayden warns. “I can still send you back to Rimor.”
Aurelius raises his brow in challenge. “We both know you could never keep me there.”
“Well, this has been delightful!” Rowina chimes in, her tone cheery and excited. “I don’t care if you don’t like Breyla and Aurelius, Mother. I quite enjoy them. I’m keeping them.”
A smile lights Rowina’s face as she takes her mother by the arm, leading her away from the rest of us. “Mother, I believe there was a suitor you wanted to speak to me about?”
We breathe a collective sigh of relief once the queen has left the room.
I startle when an unfamiliar deep voice speaks behind me, “Well, that show was worth the price of admission.”
“Darian,” Ayden greets warmly, his smile reaching his eyes.
A warm hand wraps around my own, and it’s then that I realize I had grabbed my dagger.
“That’s Darian Ashcroft,” Aurelius says quietly, “Ayden’s general. He’s not a threat.”
Returning my dagger to its sheath, I respond, “I’m not used to others being able to surprise me.”
“That would be his Gift,” Aurelius explains. He starts to say more, but is cut off when the new male turns his attention to us.
Deep blue eyes meet mine, assessing and weighing me where I stand. Brown locks frame his face. Sun-kissed skin and defined muscles tell of his time training outside. Much like me, he’s dressed in leathers, and I count no less than five blades on him.
Ayden lays a hand on the male’s shoulder, turning to look at me. “Princess Breyla, I’d like you to meet my general, Darian Ashcroft.”
A maelstrom of emotions rises inside me as I assess the male. I should feel respect for the warrior in front of me, but we’ve been two warring countries for a very long time, so I also carry a large amount of grief for the Rimorian lives lost at his orders.
Tentatively, I reach out a hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Darian.”
He sneers, the act contorting his beautiful face into something ugly. His arms cross his broad chest as he blatantly ignores my outstretched hand.
“Let’s not pretend to be things we’re not, General .” The way he says my title is full of mockery. Though we possess the same title, he holds no respect for me.
My hand drops at the same time as my jaw. I know I’m brash, but this male is just rude.
“Excuse me?” I nearly stutter, unsure how to respond.
“You heard me,” Darain says before turning to Ayden. “Is your bride deaf as well as inept?”