Page 38 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

I study him casually, noting the scar that bisects his brow.

Somehow, it makes his striking eyes stand out even more.

A light spattering of freckles dots the bridge of his nose, not quite as prominent as Breyla’s but still unusual for this region.

Other scars cover his arms, a physical representation of the life he leads.

They do nothing to diminish his handsomeness.

“Where are we going?” I ask, as we wander the halls.

“I was thinking the library,” Elijah replies.

I smile. “Fine by me.”

On the way, we detour through the kitchen, commandeering wine and leftover dinner. By the time we reach the library, I’m nearly feral with hunger.

I attack the roast chicken, finishing it quickly, and take a long pull from my glass of wine.

“Gods who knew listening to people talk could make me so hungry,” I say, wiping the wine from my lips.

Elijah bursts out into laughter, leaving both Cillian and me staring at him in confusion. When he finally catches his breath, he wheezes, “It’s not court that made you so hungry, doll. It’s what we did instead of breakfast this morning.”

My cheeks flush. Did he really just suggest that having sex is what made me so ravenous?

“Oh, gods you’re adorable.” Elijah grins. “I really forget how innocent you still are.”

Cillian chuckles, clearly enjoying my mortification.

“There’s blood on my hands,” I mumble, glaring at both of them. “So I’m not sure how innocent that makes me.”

“Blood, you say?” Cillian asks, his interest clearly piqued.

“Restrain yourself,” Elijah snaps, shooting Cillian a look. “It was justified, and no literal blood was spilled.”

“It’s best not to mention blood around this one,” he adds, jerking his thumb at Cillian. “If you thought I was filthy in bed, you haven’t seen this lunatic after a kill.”

“Whatever,” Cillian huffs. “Ruin my fun,”

Elijah refills his wineglass before turning serious. “Ask your questions, Cill.”

“Why is Breyla in Prudia while Rimor crumbles?” Cillian demands bluntly.

“The late King Raynor signed a marriage agreement with Prince Ayden II before his death,” Elijah explains. “The prince honored the contract and retrieved his bride, just as everything fell apart. She had no choice if she wanted to maintain peace between our two countries.”

I continue sipping wine silently, letting the two males volley information back and forth.

“So it wasn’t of her own desire, then,” Cillian muses.

“Not even a little,” I add, finishing my wine.

“And why,” Cillian continues, “would the late king’s brother accompany her?”

“There are two reasons,” Elijah answers. “One, you know damn well he’s her lover. Prince Ayden’s no fool. He knew if he didn’t bring Aurelius, the male would cause a much bigger scene trying to reach her.”

“And the second reason?”

“Because Aurelius is Ayden’s half-brother,” Elijah sighs, taking another drink of his wine. “Technically, he's an heir to Prudia’s throne, if the court acknowledges him.”

Shock flashes across Cillian’s face, but he masks it quickly.

“Breyla sure knows how to pick them,” Cillian mutters, refilling both our glasses.

“What’s your next question?” Elijah asks.

“If this marriage was to bring peace, why the fuck is Prudia attacking our western border?”

A muscle ticks in Elijah’s jaw as he fights the urge to spill everything.

“We’re not convinced it is Prudia,” he finally says. “It wouldn’t serve them to attack the kingdom they just allied with.”

“Agreed,” Cillian says, “but they should at least be helping defend it.”

“You care an awful lot for someone who stands to profit from the situation,” Elijah notes.

“I don’t want to see Rimor fall,” Cillian replies evenly. “Just because we fall on opposite sides of the law doesn’t mean I don’t care for this kingdom.”

“Have you had your fill of truths for tonight?” I cut in, my head pleasantly buzzing from the wine.

Cillian smirks at me. “For now.”

“Then let’s have another and speak of lighter things,” I suggest, tipping back my glass.

Elijah downs the rest of his glass. “That sounds like a great idea, doll.”

Several drinks later, my head is swimming, and I lay it against Elijah’s shoulder.

The low rumble of his laughter vibrates against my cheek, and I smile.

He pulls my head into his lap, his fingers stroking my hair with a comforting rhythm.

The simple touch pulls me back to memories of my mother and Layne doing the same once upon a time.

Instead of sadness, a strange, peaceful warmth fills me.

I drift, half asleep, while the two men continue talking like old friends. It isn’t until I hear Breyla’s name that I rouse a little.

“You still love her, don’t you?” Elijah asks.

A tense beat of silence. Then Cillian answers, voice rough, “I never stopped.”

Elijah sighs. “But she did.”

“Which she made abundantly clear the last time I saw her,” Cillian admits, something broken threading through his tone.

“It was your own doing, you know that, right?” Elijah says, not unkindly.

“I’ve known that from the moment I lost her, Elijah,” Cillian says softly. “Why do you think I put my blade through his throat?”

“I always suspected you were behind that,” Elijah muses. “It never made sense how he was killed so easily in his own home.”

“He deserved worse,” Cillian mutters. “He forced me into this life. Forced me to lie to her.”

“Males like us do dangerous things for those we care about.”

“And you would too, if you knew the depth of what I felt for her,” Cillian replies. “Maybe you already do.”

Their conversation blurs as sleep finally claims me, but I still catch the last few lines.

“So, she’s yours, then?” Cillian asks.

“She is,” Elijah says. His voice is steady, but layered with emotions I can’t quite untangle. “At least for...”

But I don’t hear the end.

Darkness pulls me under.