Page 30 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

brEYLA

A yden smiles the moment my door swings open. “Good morning, love.”

I startle, eyeing him suspiciously. “Good morning, Prince.”

“Are you wearing shoes?”

Winter hasn’t arrived yet, but Ayden had been right about one thing– the chill settles in Prudia much earlier than it does in Rimor.

I lift the hem of my gown, displaying the only pair of flats the queen had deemed necessary for me.

“Unfortunately,” I mutter, wishing the day were warm enough to go barefoot.

“Excellent,” Ayden says, grinning. “We have a date this morning.”

“We do?” I ask warily as he offers his arm, leading me away from the royal wing.

“I know this wasn’t your choice, Breyla,” he says, voice light yet sincere, “but I am intent on courting you properly. I want to show you exactly how wonderful your life with me could be.”

“Your sincerity,” I sigh, “makes it annoyingly difficult to keep hating you.”

We reach the courtyard, the sun casting warm rays over the bustling staff as they go about their morning tasks. A few feet away, a black carriage with gold accents awaits us, the horses already harnessed.

Silently, I wish we were traveling on horseback instead.

“Come now, darling. You might not trust me, but you don’t hate me,” he teases.

I consider my words carefully as we climb into the carriage.

“No, Ayden, I don’t hate you , but I despise what you and our betrothal represent.”

“And what do I represent to you?” he asks, his tone losing some of its teasing edge.

“Chains,” I reply without hesitation. “This betrothal... it’s a cage.”

A solemn look crosses his handsome face. “I never wish to chain you, Breyla. I only want to see you fly.”

“I’m no bird, but if I were, consider my wings clipped.”

The remainder of the ride unfolds in silence, heavy and unsettled.

We step into a bustling street, morning energy humming through the town. In front of us stands a modest building, its white facade softened by the wild riot of flowers spilling from every available space. A sign sways overhead that reads Esme’s Café .

“I hope you’re hungry, love.” Ayden grins, holding the door open for me. “This is my favorite breakfast spot.”

I shrug. “I could eat.”

Inside, the warm scent of fresh bread, spices, and strong tea envelops me instantly. Ayden waves down the nearest server, a young female balancing several steaming plates. He deftly swipes a plate from her arm, setting it before a waiting patron. “It’s a beautiful day, Violet. How are you?”

“We’re busy today, Prince,” she replies, not unkindly but clearly immune to his charm

“You’re busy every day, love.” He gives her a cheeky grin. “Do you have a table for your favorite patron?”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I don’t know about favorite,” she mumbles.

“You lie,” he teases.

“And you flirt entirely too much,” she retorts.

A sudden laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. “She knows you well.”

“I always have a table for our rakish prince,” a new voice adds, the sound like a melody, yet somehow still rough. A tall, lithe woman with dark hair and darker eyes sweeps toward us, exuding a rough-edged warmth.

“Esme, darling,” Ayden greets her with a dramatic flourish. “How lovely to see you.”

“You don't need to flirt to get a table, Ayden,” she says dryly, steering us toward a cozy corner. “I always keep one for you, and for your charming companion.”

“Breyla Rozaria,” I introduce myself before Ayden can speak, holding my hand out.

“Esme Calder. It’s a pleasure.” She pulls me into a quick, fierce hug instead of a handshake. “You must be the betrothed.”

“Word travels quickly here,” I say uncomfortably.

“The prince has a big mouth,” Esme says with a wink, “He couldn't shut up about you. It was all he talked about for a month before he left to fetch you.”

“Now you’re embellishing,” Ayden grumbles.

Esme gives me a conspiratorial wink as she fills our cups with steaming tea. “What can I get you?”

“The special,” Ayden answers immediately. “And one of those,” he adds, pointing to the enormous cinnamon roll Violet carries past.

Esme disappears, leaving us alone. I stare at the steam rising from the cup as I try to think of something to fill the silence.

"Ask me anything," Ayden says suddenly, watching me over the rim of his cup.

I raise a skeptical brow. "Anything?”

He nods. “This is your chance to get to know me. I’m an open book.”

I lean back, pretending to consider. “Did you sleep with Violet?”

He smirks. “Would it make you jealous if I had?”

“Hardly,” I scoff.

“No—” he starts.

“I find that hard to believe,” I cut in.

“I slept with her sister,” he finishes. “Twice.”

“There it is,” I say, laughing.

“And her brother,” he adds shamelessly. “Three times.”

“Not at the same time, I hope.”

“Heavens, no,” he exclaims, laughing. “I didn’t even know they were related until much later. I went through some… dark times following my father’s death. Liquor and warm bodies became a coping mechanism.”

“That would explain why Violet is immune to your charm.”

“Nah,” Ayden says with a grin. “She’s always been immune. Rowina’s more her type.”

“Ah,” I say, understanding clicking into place.

Esme returns with our food, placing the dishes in front of us.

A rich, decadent scent rises from the plates. A poached egg glistens atop a fluffy biscuit layered with ham, all drenched in a creamy yellow sauce.

Beside it, the cinnamon roll towers, so thick with icing it’s threatening to melt off the plate.

Ayden bats my fingers away from the sweet treat, leveling me with a stern look. “You have to try that first,” he says, nudging the egg dish toward me.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes, stabbing my fork into the egg.

When the first bite hits my tongue, I have to choke back a moan because, holy hell, that’s good. The sauce on top is somehow creamy and tangy and perfectly balances the sweetness of the ham. Egg yolk spills, deepening the flavor profile of the dish.

“This is delicious,” I mumble around a mouthful.

“It’s my favorite for a reason,” Ayden says smugly.

“Why don’t you hire her to work for the castle?” I ask, going in for another bite. “I would eat this daily if I could.”

“If you want it every day, I’ll make that happen,” he promises with a wink. “And to answer your question, I’ve tried. Sadly, she can’t be bought.”

“That is sad,” I agree, taking another bite. The yolk dribbles down my chin, and I let out a soft groan of satisfaction.

Ayden reaches across the table, his thumb swiping up the golden trail before brushing lightly over my lower lip.

“You missed some,” he says, bringing his thumb to his mouth to suck it clean.

“Do you flirt this way with all your conquests?” I blurt out.

Ayden’s face turns uncharacteristically serious, almost heartbreakingly so. “You are not a conquest, Breyla. You are my future wife and queen.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He exhales, defeated. “Only with the stubborn ones.”

“And does it work?”

“Typically,” he admits. “I’m not accustomed to having to try this hard if I’m being honest.”

I shove the last bite of my dish into my mouth, savoring the tangy sauce as I lick it off my fork.

“Maybe you should try less.”

His dark brow quirks in question. “You want me to try less to woo you?”

“If I must marry you, I want to know the real you, Ayden. I don’t need over-the-top flirting, I need authenticity.”

I don’t know why I'm telling him how to win me. Maybe because something deep inside says he needs to hear it.

His brow furrows, expression shifting into something sincere. “I can respect that, but I don’t think I can turn off the flirting entirely,” he admits. “That’s just part of my personality at this point.”

I chuckle, tearing into the cinnamon roll and popping a piece in my mouth.

The spicy sweetness melts across my tongue, and an involuntary groan of satisfaction slips free.

“I think your eyes just rolled back into your head,” Ayden teases, laughing boisterously.

I flip him off. “Is all the food here this good?”

“Pretty much, though her pancakes are only okay.”

“I heard that, you liar,” Esme calls from across the room.

I continue devouring the cinnamon roll as Ayden and Esme banter back and forth. Esme threatens to revoke his table privileges unless he takes it back.

I chuckle at how easily he rolls over and submits to her after that.

“So tell me,” Ayden says as the laughter dies down. “How exactly did Aurelius, of all people, win your heart?”

I nearly choke on the last bite of the gooey delicacy. “You really want to know?”

“I may regret it,” he says, grinning, “but yes.”

I debate how much I really want to divulge about our relationship. It feels violating, in a sense, exposing that part of myself. But I told Ayden I would give him a genuine chance, and if I’m expecting transparency from him, I know I must give a little in return.

“To start with,” I say slowly, “Aurelius doesn’t flirt. The closest he comes is whispering filthy things in my ear and throwing daggers.”

“Dear gods,” Ayden snorts. “Are you telling me fighting is your foreplay?”

I laugh, throwing my head back. “Something like that.”

“If you want the truth, though,” I continue, “Aurelius understands me. Better than most. He was there through the worst moments of my life, but he never coddled me. He knows when to push, when to call me on my bullshit, and when to pull me back from the edge.”

Ayden nods, quiet now, truly listening.

“I can’t tell you how he came to know all that, but he does. He’s always been unapologetically himself and never shied away from what he wants. He never tried to overshadow me; he only ever made me stronger. Standing beside him felt like... standing taller.”

“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?”