Page 48 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

I hiss, dropping the remaining pieces of the goblet, and push my chair back. Standing swiftly, I sputter, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I had a firmer grip than I realized. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to clean this.”

Not waiting for her dismissal, I stand, hurriedly making my way out of the room and away from the eyes of a thousand people.

I find an empty room off the grand hall and slip inside.

As the door clicks shut, my entire body shudders as I lean my back against a wall.

The room is dark, so dark I can hardly make out what its purpose might be. Just as my eyes begin to adjust, light flares from the door opening.

It shuts, leaving us in the dark once more.

And somehow, I know without seeing, it’s him.

“What do you want, Aurelius?” My voice is cold and flat, revealing none of the storm inside me.

“Are you okay?” He asks, reaching for me.

I see only the vague outline of him, but I feel his hands finding my face.

“My well-being is none of your concern,” I respond, willing cold indifference into my tone.

“Horse shit,” he hisses.

His breath dances across the skin of my cheek, telling me he’s close enough to kiss.

A soft glow grows from the Faerie light he casts, bathing his features and the room in a soft amber hue.

He lifts my still-bleeding palm to his face, inspecting the gash.

“It’s just a cut,” I say, attempting to pull my hand from his grasp.

His eyes harden, connecting with mine as he tightens his hold on my wrist. “Quit moving, brat. There’s still glass in your hand. It’s embedded under the skin.”

I feel the blood in my hand move in an unnatural pattern and understand he must be using his Gift to direct it. Two thin shards of glass work their way from under my skin, and I grunt at the sharp sting, but the relief is immediate.

“Thanks. Are we done here?” I ask, trying to free myself.

“No.” His tone is harsh, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something desperate. “I can't heal it, but I forced it to clot. You won't bleed all over this gorgeous dress.”

The anger eases just a bit at the reminder that he’s the entire reason I have this dress.

“Thank you for the dress, Aurelius,” I say quietly. “And for the boots.”

He releases my hand at last, but doesn’t step back.

“I hate agreeing with Ayden about anything,” Aurelius says. “Especially about you. But he was right about one thing.”

“And what’s that?” My voice wavers.

He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin. “You look unequivocally devastating in this dress, little demon.”

My heart beats a little faster at his praise, but I’m swiftly reminded of Charlotte’s words at dinner.

“Aurelius and I make a handsome couple, don’t we?”

I pull away, crossing my arms. “You have an equally devastating partner waiting for you.”

Aurelius’ expression shifts, something dangerous flashes behind his eyes.

“So we’re finally going to address your reaction out there?” He steps closer. “Good. Let’s talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. I was distracted and clenched the glass too tightly.” I divert my gaze from his, knowing the lie is showing on my face.

“Fucking hells, Breyla,” Aurelius gasps. “Just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you don’t hate me!” His voice is desperate, yet determined. “Admit that you feel exactly what I feel for you. Seeing Charlotte kiss me made you so irrationally angry that you shattered a goblet.”

“There’s nothing to admit,” I whisper, still refusing to meet his eyes.

He catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Admit it,” he growls. “Admit that you aren’t as unaffected as you’re pretending, that the sight of seeing someone else kiss me knots your stomach. Makes you want to murder them. Because that is exactly what I feel every time I’m forced to watch Ayden kiss you.”

Something breaks inside me, the anger from earlier bubbling to the surface, accompanied by nausea.

“Fine,” I hiss. “Watching that heifer trail her fingers over you fills me with fury. I wanted to shove my shadows down her dainty throat and watch her choke. I’ve never been jealous before, Aurelius. I don’t understand why I want to break every bone in the hand she used to touch you!”

A small smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “I think you do understand, Princess.”

“I assure you, I don’t.”

“Stop lying to me,” he says, his voice low and guttural.

“What do you want me to say?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I want you to say that you feel even a fraction of the all-consuming love I feel for you!”

His words ring true, and I freeze.

No one had ever said those words to me, not like that.

Desperation floods his crimson-flecked eyes as the silence stretches between us. “Tell me he loves you.”

I can hear the way his voice trembles, the words catching in his throat.

“He cares for me, Aurelius,” is all I can manage, because I don’t know the truth of Ayden’s feelings. Even if I did, I wouldn’t dare voice them. “He knows me, understands me.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he growls.

The breath in my lungs vanishes as he invades my space, my back hitting the wall. Warm fingers trace my jaw, gripping my chin firmly as he tilts my face up to meet his.

Quietly, almost too low to hear, he asks, “Do you love him?”

I can see the physical pain his question elicits. It’s mirrored in my own soul, shredding at the very fabric of my being. Nausea churns in my gut at the words that slip from my tongue, “I think I could.”

“No, Breyla,” he whispers as his fingers fall away from my face. They trail down my neck, squeezing softly as his hand brackets my throat. Warm breath dusts my ear when he leans in to whisper, “You could never love Ayden.”

My breath hitches at the surety of his words—the absolute possession.

“Pardon?” I breathe.

“He could be a sinner or the god Saelem in mortal form,” Aurelius starts.

Confusion lifts my brow. “I’m fairly certain he’s the future king of Prudia,” I deadpan.

A frustrated growl reverberates through his chest, and he bands his free hand across my mouth. “He could be your saving grace or your ruinous destruction. A stranger or your oldest friend. I don’t care if he married you ten times over or knew every part of your radiant soul.”

What’s your point? I want to ask, but his hands squeeze tighter.

The air catches in my throat from the pressure as he murmurs, “But he will never love you like I can.”

“You can’t love me like that,” I gasp, fresh oxygen flooding my lungs when he finally eases the pressure around my throat.

“Why not?” he demands.

I close my eyes, squeezing them tightly to combat the burning of the tears that threaten to break free. “Because one or both of us is going to be forced to watch the other walk away. I’m engaged. A fact neither of us can change without risking war.”

Aurelius leans his forehead against mine, hand stroking my cheek with aching tenderness. “It never stopped us before.”

“Maybe it should have,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue. Everything about the statement feels wrong, but I can’t take it back now.

He stills, then slowly pulls back, searching my eyes, pleading for something I'm too broken to give.

“Take it back,” he whispers.

I remain quiet, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my composure.

My voice is a raspy whisper when I finally utter, “I fucking love you, but I can’t.”

“No,” he grits, his jaw ticking and eyes burning. “You don’t get to say those words and break my heart in the same breath.” I swear I see the reflection of tears pooling in his eyes as he demands, “Take. It. Back.”

Everything in me screams, my heart begging me to comply and take it all back. But I can’t. We were doomed from the start, and everything has led to this moment. The moment I break us both.

Silence.

“I see,” he says, withdrawing from me. The devastation is plain in his eyes.

He’s gone, the light going with him, in the next second.

In the pitch dark, I suck in a rattling breath, fighting the sobs clawing up my throat. Tears stream down my cheeks, soaking the mask still covering my face.

The door bursts open once again, and I gasp in surprise.

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking for you,” Ayden’s smooth accented voice rolls through the space between us.

“Why?” I ask, voice unsteady.

He creates a new Faerie light, illuminating the space. In his outstretched hand is a damp cloth, and in the other are fresh bandages.

Smiling meekly, I hold my hand out to him.

“It looks like it’s already stopped bleeding,” he says as he gently wipes the dried blood and wine from my palm.

The flesh is tender, but he’s right. It’s no longer bleeding, thanks to Aurelius.

Once the wound is clean, he wraps it with deft fingers, tying the bandage snugly.

“I’m sorry it took so long to find you. I got stopped in the kitchen when I was looking for supplies.” His voice is achingly sincere. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “It’s fine.”

He studies my face, unconvinced.

“I’m just tired,” I lie. “Can you make an excuse for me?”

He looks me up and down, seemingly not buying my excuse. “Of course,” he says, much to my surprise. “I’ll tell them you weren't feeling well from the wine.”

He offers his arm.

I take it silently, letting him lead me away from the wreckage of the night, and into another kind of battle altogether.