Page 32 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

brEYLA

M y shoulder pops as I throw it across my chest, stretching it out. I repeat the motion on the other side, then move to my legs. It’s been too long since I felt the strain of a solid sparring session, and gods, I’m looking forward to it.

“Why the private training room, Ayden?” I ask, scanning the empty space. “Afraid to have your ass kicked in front of your soldiers?”

“Hardly, love,” he says, mirroring my stretches. “I take my rare losses with grace and humility.”

“Yes, because humble is the first word that comes to mind when I think of you.”

“We’re in this room because I wanted to ensure you had privacy,” Ayden continues, rolling his head side to side until it pops loudly.

I stretch my arm up and behind my head, connecting it with my opposite hand behind my back. “Why would I need privacy? I spar all the time.”

“Because we’re not just sparring,” he says easily, lunging forward to stretch his thighs. “I’m getting to know you.”

I mimic him, arching a brow. “Oh?”

“Remember when I said you’d need your energy for what I had planned the other day?” His grin is pure mischief. “This is what I actually had planned.”

I think back to two days ago when Ayden had taken me to his favorite breakfast spot in Elentia. It had started with unexpected enjoyment and ended in near tragedy. Rochelle had lived, Ayden’s healer reaching her in time to save her leg. She returned home to her family yesterday.

I snort. “Let me get this straight—you plan to court me by fighting me?”

He winks. “I want to see you in your element. I figured I could observe you where you’re most comfortable and ask questions as we go.”

“Alright, I’ll play along. But I get to ask you questions as well,” I demand, pointing a finger at him.

“Of course.”

I fall into a defensive stance, weight on my toes, waiting for him to make the first move.

He strikes fast, a punch flying toward my chest. I deflect easily, spinning out of his reach and throwing a sharp jab at his shoulder.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asks, catching my forearm before my punch can land.

I tear my arm free, dancing back. “Deep green.”

“Not just green?”

“No.” I lunge, throwing a punch that glances off his cheek. “Green like the color of pine needles.”

He sucks in a breath, wiping a thumb across his lip. It comes away red, wet with the blood of a split lip.

I bite back a smirk. “What is your favorite color?”

“Navy blue—like the midnight sky on a full moon.”

He sweeps his leg toward mine, aiming low. I barely leap clear, nearly losing my balance in the process.

Ayden seizes the opportunity, tackling me to the ground.

“What’s your favorite food?” he asks as he wrestles my arms above my head, pinning me.

“Getting real deep now,” I tease, twisting my hips. While he’s distracted trying to control my hands, I wrap my legs around his hips and roll him beneath me. “Roasted lamb.” I grin down at him. “But cheesecake is my weakness.”

I don’t waste time trying to pin him. It’s pointless. Instead, I wrap a hand lightly around his throat, squeezing just enough to make him uncomfortable. “Are you more of an ass or tits kind of male?”

He laughs, even under the pressure of my hand. “I’m an equal opportunist.”

His strength is infuriating—and wildly attractive. He grabs my hips, rolling me again.

Breathing heavily, he straddles me again. “What’s your fondest memory?”

A dozen memories come to mind. Dancing in the rain with Elijah, training with Jade and Julian for the first time, my parents’ faces when they made me general. But one memory settles over me like a warm blanket.

“Learning to dance.” I smile fondly. “My parents hired an instructor, but I was awful at first. I wanted to quit. Until I snuck out of bed one night and caught them dancing by candlelight. There was no music, no audience. Just pure, unadulterated love between them. The way they twirled and laughed in that silent room…”

Ayden’s expression softens, real affection gleaming in his amber eyes. “That sounds…”

“Magical,” I finish for him. I smile, small and aching. “It absolutely was. I didn’t just want to dance like that. I wanted to love like that.”

His gaze sharpens, more serious now. “And have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Loved like that?”

My breath hitches, something tight swelling in my chest. I turn my head away, breaking eye contact. “No.”

Warm fingers catch my chin, gently coaxing me back to face him. “Let me love you like that,” he pleads, his thumb brushing tenderly across my cheek.

I close my eyes, swallowing down the knot in my throat. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“I believe anything is possible.”

I sigh. “What a sickeningly optimistic view.”

He chuckles. “It’s better than whatever viewpoint you seem to have.”

“I’m pragmatic.”

“It’s depressing.”

I roll my eyes, grateful for the shift in tone. “Alright, you win this match. Let’s go again.”

He grins, pulling me to my feet.

We reset, and this time, I land a clean hit to his left eye.

“Oh, that’s going to bruise,” I say delightedly. “How do you look in purple?”

“I look good in everything, love.” He cocks an eyebrow. “I look especially good in nothing.”

I snort, circling him. “What’s your most embarrassing memory?”

As he opens his mouth, I dart forward and land a punch to his gut.

“Ompf.” He doubles over slightly, gasping.

I follow with a quick roundhouse kick that nearly topples him.

“The first time I bedded someone,” he manages between breaths, “I was so drunk, I didn’t know who I had taken to my bed.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad.”

“It was a stableboy with a wicked sense of humor,” he continues. His fist connects with my gut, and I double over as the breath leaves my lungs. “The next morning, I couldn’t remember what had happened. He wouldn’t tell me which of us had…” He muses, grinning wickedly as I dissolve into laughter.

“Well,” I manage between gasps, “at least you’re an equal opportunist and a good sport.”

“See?” he says, flashing a bright, cocky grin. “You understand me. I suspect you’re already falling for my charms.”

I shake my head, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. “Not a chance, Prince.”

But gods help me... for just a moment, it almost feels easy to imagine a world where I could.

“So you didn’t know who’d taken it up the ass?” I offer sweetly.

“Such a crude mouth,” Ayden chastises, amusement sparkling in his amber eyes. “But yes.”

“Did you ever find out?”

“No,” he laughs, the sound unbothered. “To this day, I have no idea. But he made sure the whole palace knew how long, or rather, how short, it lasted.”

“You’re quick to arrive? Never would’ve guessed that,” I muse.

My foot lands square against his chest, sending him stumbling backward. He trips over his own feet, and I pounce, pinning him by the wrists.

“I’m anything but quick to arrive now, love,” he purrs, looking altogether too pleased. “Would you like to find out just how long I can last?”

“Hmmm,” I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin.. “No. Better save the disappointment for our wedding night.”

“Such a cruel female,” Ayden mutters, grinning despite himself. “Alright, you’ve won this one.”

I release him, climbing to my feet with a satisfied hum. “Would you like me to kick your ass again, Your Highness?”

“I wouldn’t mind another,” he says with a lazy shrug, pushing himself upright.

We spar again, harder this time. I land several solid hits, but by the end, we’re both panting, our movements slowing.

“What was your favorite game as a child?” he asks, dodging a sloppy jab.

“Hide and seek,” I reply, landing a hit to his shoulder.

“You would favor the goddess of war and strategy, wouldn’t you?”

I shrug. “My parents used to say they should have named me after Kraenta.”

He catches me off guard with a fist to my cheek. I hiss, heat flaring under my skin.

Despite the throbbing, it’s obvious he pulled that punch.

Ayden freezes instantly, guilt flashing across his face. “Are you alright?”

I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, tasting blood, and scowl. “Afraid to hit a female, Prince?”

“I’m not taking it easy on you, Princess,” he insists, his voice hardening.

I drop my stance, folding my arms. “You pulled your punch just now.”

He mirrors me, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not leaving my fiancée with a black eye.”

“It wouldn’t be my first.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll ever be responsible for giving you one.” His tone is flat, final.

Part of me knows I should appreciate the care in his words, but it just pisses me off. I don’t want to be protected. I want to be respected.

My fists clench, nails biting into my palms.

“What’s the matter?” It’s meant as a taunt, but bitterness leaks into my voice. “Afraid to leave a mark on a female?”

Ayden smirks, his eyes darkening.

Slowly, he backs me toward the wall. Bracing one arm beside my head, he leans in close and whispers, “I much prefer to leave my marks by other means.”

His scent, woodsy citrus, and the faint salt of sweat wrap around me. I feel it like a physical touch, shivering down my spine.

Annoyed at my body’s reaction, I bark a laugh and knee him in the groin. “No thanks, minute-male.”

Ayden doubles over with a grunt. “Fucking dirty, Princess.”

I shrug innocently. “Better luck next time, Prince,” I call over my shoulder as I leave the training room.

All I can think about as I make the walk back to my room is how good a bath sounds. The sweat has begun to dry, and my cheek is warm and swelling from Ayden’s hit. The burn in my muscles is a welcome relief, though. Endorphins flood my system from the workout, and I’m riding the high.

The castle corridors blur as I walk, staff and courtiers parting around me.

I barely register the voice that stops me.

“Princess Breyla, are you quite alright?” Queen Josephina’s voice cuts through my haze.

I turn sharply. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Ah, dear,” She gestures delicately at her lower lip. “You do know you’re bleeding, don’t you?”