Page 31 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

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.

Her eyes droop.

“We’ve got someone coming from the castle to help fix your leg,” I reassure her. “You just need to stay awake until they get here, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Tell me about yourself, Rochelle,” I suggest. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-two,” she answers. Older than I expected, but still young.

“Well, you certainly age gracefully,” Ayden murmurs. “I wouldn’t have guessed you to be more than twenty-five.”

For once, Ayden’s subtle flirtations are just what is needed. A slight flush covers her cheeks.

“What do you do for a living?” I ask.

“I’m… a midwife,” Rochelle replies, alarm flaring her eyes wide. “I was on my way to check on a mother… She’s due any day… babe’s in the wrong position.”

“It’s okay,” I soothe, running a hand up and down her arm. “We’ll get someone else to her.”

“If you give me her name,” Ayden says, voice low and steady, “I’ll send the castle midwife to see to her personally.”

Rochelle rattles off the name and address, and Ayden relays it swiftly to another guard.

“See?” I murmur. “Everything is going to be okay.”

She nods weakly.

“Are you in pain?” I ask, scanning her for worsening signs of shock.

“Yes,” she whimpers.

Her tanned skin is clammy, her body trembling, and I know the shock has fully set in. We need to move fast.

It feels like hours, but finally, Aurelius arrives, Rowina right behind him on horseback.

“Thank the gods he brought Ro,” Ayden mutters, relief flashing across his face.

“What’s the damage?” Aurelius asks.

“Crushed leg,” I say, fast and grim. “Not sure if there are any breaks, but we can’t move the wood. If we do, she’ll bleed out. She’s already in shock.”

Rowina drops to the ground beside Rochelle, taking her hand and flashing her a warm, brilliant smile. “You have beautiful blue eyes, darling. Keep them on me, alright?”

Rochelle’s trembling eases, her muscles relaxing under Rowina’s Empath Gift.

Aurelius crouches next to Ayden, assessing the injury.

“Breyla, you apply pressure the second I pull it free. I can’t clot it until the object is removed. Ayden, you carry her to the carriage and get her to the castle. My Gift won’t hold indefinitely, so move fast.”

We nod, falling into place.

Aurelius meets my eyes, counting down from three. When he hits one, he slides the wood free. I slam both palms onto Rochelle’s thigh, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Her eyes widen, horror blooming across her face.

“Eyes on me,” Rowina commands sharply, and Rochelle blinks up at her, breathing in shallow gasps.

Aurelius’ Gift surges through the wound, slowly but surely, staunching the blood. By the time Rochelle’s stable enough to move, she’s concerningly pale.

Aurelius nods, and Ayden lifts her, bridal style, into his arms and climbs into the waiting carriage. It takes off for the palace, leaving Rowina, Aurelius, and me standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood.

The crowd falls quiet around us.

“Thank you, both.” My voice is hoarse, exhaustion filling me in place of the quickly receding adrenaline.

“There’s no need to thank us.” Rowina lays a hand on my shoulder. “These are our people. It’s our job to protect them.”

A light touch taps my arm. I turn to find an elderly female and a boy holding towels and a pitcher of water.

“Let us wash your hands,” the boy says.

We stretch out our arms, mine the worst by far. They pour water over them, scrubbing away all they can before toweling them dry. It’s not perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“No,” she smiles. “Thank you. Rochelle is my niece, and you didn’t have to save her.”

“I would do it for anyone.”

She studies me with eyes the same bright blue as Rochelle’s and smiles. “I believe that, Your Highness.”

“Please,” I say, voice rough. “It’s just Breyla.”

“You have an uncommon soul, Breyla,” she says, squeezing my hand.

“That she does,” Aurelius says, sliding an arm around my shoulders.

Shrugging, I try to shake off Aurelius’ hold, but his grip only tightens. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“We’ll send word about Rochelle the moment we know more,” Rowina promises.

“Thank you,” the little boy says, flashing us a toothy grin.

Aurelius’ arm stays firmly clamped around me as we reach the horses.

“Let me go,” I hiss.

“No,” he says flatly. “You’re trembling. Your heart’s all over the place, and you’re dangerously close to passing out.”

I glance down at my shaking hands and realize he’s right.

“Oh,” is all I manage to say as Aurelius lifts me onto the horse, then joins me a heartbeat later.

I lean forward, trying to escape his warmth, his solid presence.

Aurelius grunts, shifts the reins to one hand, and presses the other against my lower belly, pulling me back against him.

“Quit fighting me, you stubborn female,” he growls. “I’m keeping you upright.”

I sigh, but stop struggling. I’m too tired.

For a few minutes, the steady beat of the horse and the warmth of his chest at my back lull me.

Then discomfort creeps in. I shift in the saddle, trying to ease the cramp building in my hip.

“For the love of gods,” Aurelius groans. “Quit moving. There’s only so far I can push my restraint.”

The unmistakable pressure against my lower back tells me I’ve already pushed him further than I intended. My core heats, irritation rising at my body’s involuntary response.

I don’t even try to fight the snark that fills my voice as I retort, “This saddle wasn’t made for two people, Aurelius.”

Aurelius tightens his grip, pressing firmly against my navel to hold me still.

“If you don’t quit moving,” he warns, voice low. “I’ll have you riding something other than this horse by the time we reach the castle.”

“Unless it’s my own hand, I’m not interested,” I deadpan.

He chuckles darkly, hot breath fanning my ear. “Your body, your scent, tells me otherwise.”

“Maybe so,” I snap. “But my heart and my mind are unequivocally clear. I may enjoy your body, Aurelius, but I certainly don’t need you.”

The rest of the ride is silent.

When we reach the castle gates, Ayden is waiting, tense and grim.

“How is she?” I ask before my feet even hit the ground.

“Stable. The physician is with her now until my healer can arrive. She’ll survive.”

Relief sags my shoulders. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

“Thank the gods.”

Ayden catches me when I stumble, steadying me with his hands at my waist. “Easy, love.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Adrenaline crash.”

“Let’s get you a bath and some rest,” Ayden makes a show of pressing a kiss to my hair as he leads me inside.

Later, clean and warm under heavy covers, Ayden sits beside my bed.

“I enjoyed today,” he says softly, “despite how it turned out.”

I smile despite myself. “I did too.”

“Good.” He smirks. “Rest up. There was something else I had planned for today, but you’ll need your energy.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What is that?”

He just winks. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Whatever.” I yawn. “I’ll find out sooner or later.”

I don't even hear the door click closed before sleep claims me.