Page 55 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

brEYLA

S omething aches deep within me.

The last time I saw Aurelius was three weeks ago. True to his word, Ayden kept him busy and out of Elentia. The distance between us sets me on edge in the most uncomfortable way.

Today, I’m attempting to fill the void with sweets.

Technically, Rowina and I are baking them for the people of the capital, but with so many cookies already made, a few won’t be missed.

Rowina turns her back to put a tray of ginger snap cookies in the oven, and I stuff another sugar cookie into my mouth. I don’t care what anyone says. These are better than chocolate chip.

With her back still to me, she says, “Your joy spikes every time you shove another cookie into your mouth.”

“Consider it my moment of joy today.” I shrug, crumbs spewing from the half-eaten cookie as I speak.

Since our moment on the roof, Ayden and I had made it a point to share our moment of joy with each other every day. No one else needed to know what we were talking about, because we understood. And that’s all that matters.

“Well, you’ve had eight moments of joy today, so you should be set for the next week.” Rowina laughs, the sound full and free. “At this rate, there isn’t going to be any left for the townspeople.”

I’d learned from Ayden that baking sweets for the entire castle and surrounding village was a Mordet family tradition in the months leading up to the Winter Solstice. Generations of Mordets participate. It takes months, given how many people live here.

Today, we’re starting with the farthest part of the town and working our way inward. Every week, we’ll take a batch leading up to the eve of the solstice. On Solstice Eve, we’ll share the last round with the castle staff before letting them enjoy the night off with their loved ones.

“There are dozens of cookies here.”

She slaps a fresh bowl down in front of me. “And you’re about to actually help me make three more to replace the ones you’ve stolen.”

“What do you mean? I’ve been helping this whole time.”

“No, you’ve rolled dough balls and eaten almost a dozen cookies by yourself. I’ve done the rest.”

I sweeten my voice, hoping to win her over with flattery. “You’re better at it.”

“Nice try.” Rowina arches a dark brow at me. “I’m just more practiced. Would you prefer chocolate chip or almond?”

I contemplate it for a moment. “Do I get to eat any?”

“No,” she says flatly.

“Ugh, fine. Almond, I guess.”

“Good choice. That’s one of my favorites.” She drops a sack of flour next to the bowl and hands me a measuring cup. “Start with one and a half cups of flour. Mix it with a teaspoon of the baking soda.”

I follow her instructions, mixing and combining ingredients until a sticky dough forms.

As I begin rolling the balls onto a sheet, she asks, “What are some of the traditions in Rimor?”

“We don’t have anything on quite this large scale, but we do have the kitchens prepare food and send it out to those most in need.”

“You only do that around the solstice?”

“I never really agreed with it, but yes.” I scrunch my nose at how inattentive that makes us sound. “We only ever seemed to help when the solstice came.”

Rowina pours batter into a tin baking cup, some of it spilling over the edge. “Don’t you think that’s a little bit… selfish?”

A few months ago, her comment would have irritated me. But seeing how Prudia operates, how the royal family actually serves its people, has changed my perspective. It opened my eyes to the shortcomings in my own kingdom and how willfully ignorant I’d been.

“Yes.” I frown. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Does your family have any traditions?”

“Elijah and I always sneak away for a snowball fight.” I smile fondly at the deluge of memories.

“Sometimes we let the twins join, but usually it’s just us.

No matter what, we always end the evening with a card tournament.

My family, the twins, and even some of the staff gather in the library for a game, or several, where we bet using candies and baked goods. ”

“What a wonderful way to honor the goddess Revna.” Rowina pauses, scrunching her nose. “So… you love the snow?”

“Hardly,” I laugh. “I detest it. But I tolerate it for the chance to kick Elijah’s ass. We’ve done it since we were ten.”

Sadness, sharp and sudden, hits me when I realize I’ll be missing our snowball fight for the first time in eighteen years.

Rowina must sense the shift in my emotions because she reaches over and takes my hand, rubbing the back of it in gentle reassurance. “Perhaps we can incorporate some of your traditions with our own this year.”

“I’d like that.” I pause, glancing at her. “It’s still so strange how easily you read me.”

“It’s the Fae blood; it makes our Gifts stronger. Keep training with Ayden, and you’ll build stronger mental defenses.”

I plop the last cookie onto the sheet. “I think this is ready to go in.”

“Perfect timing. These muffins are as well.” She swipes her finger through some batter that’s spilled over the edge and slips it into her mouth.

“That’s not fair. Why do you get to taste test, but I don’t?”

“You want a taste?” She gives me a coy grin, then covers her finger in leftover batter and holds it out to me. “Here.”

My cheeks warm as I debate whether it’s worth it to take her offer. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t think twice. But there is always a double meaning with her, and she lives to rattle me.

Fuck it.

I wrap my lips around her finger, licking off the excess batter. It lasts no more than a few seconds, but the satisfied smirk on her face burns into me.

I retreat, looking for a towel to clean my hands, only for her to catch my wrist.

“My turn,” she whispers, pulling my dough-covered hand toward her mouth.

“Absolutely not,” I laugh nervously, yanking my hand away.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” Rowina lets out a devilish cackle. “Afraid you’ll like it?”

“Much like your brother,” I murmur, washing my hands in the sink. “You’re incorrigible.”

She lifts a brow, her honey eyes sparkling. “Which one?”

“Yes,” I reply, sending us both into a fit of laughter.

We slide the new batch into the oven, pulling out the last round in the process, and settle into quiet waiting as the scent of almond and cinnamon fills the kitchen.

Once everything is baked and ready, we load it into a carriage and head for the edge of the city.

I admire the scenery as we travel, watching the vibrant reds, golds, and yellows from just a few weeks ago fade into a muted brown. There’s a chill to the air that whispers of the first snow.

A phantom ache stirs in my arm at the thought of winter, an old injury Elijah and I earned from an act of pure stupidity. But I count it as joy now. The pain makes me feel closer to him.

We step out into the waiting crowd, warm smiles greeting us from every direction.

“Come and get it!” Rowina yells. It turns into a laugh as children swarm her.

“Can I have an almond cookie?” a small girl with big brown doe eyes asks.

“Of course you can!” Rowina smiles, handing her two.

The little girl gives her a big, toothy grin, hugs Rowina’s leg, and dashes off with her prize.

Nearby, a boy asks for a muffin, followed by a toddler shouting, “Chocolate!”

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face from seeing the children so excited. It suddenly makes sense why this tradition has persisted through the generations. Serving others in this capacity creates contentment in my soul.

Once they figure out I have my own basket of goodies, I’m swarmed as well.

“Thank you, Princess,” says a boy with blue eyes and freckles, his face lighting up as he bites into the sugar cookie.

Leaning down to his level, I whisper, “They’re the best, don’t you agree?”

He nods enthusiastically, so I slip him a second for confirming my long-held theory on superior cookie flavors.

As the young ones clear out, the adults approach, curious what the little heathens have left. I glance down and see we still have plenty, so I discreetly slip two more sugar cookies into my cloak pocket.

“I saw that,” Rowina chides.

“I don’t care, I do what I want!” I exclaim, my words rolling into devious laughter.

We finish dispersing the sugary treats and store the remaining cookies in the carriage.

“And now we shop.” Rowina loops her arm through mine and steers us toward a row of nearby businesses.

We stop in front of a shop with a sign reading “Books” above the door. It has a green facade, planter boxes in the windows, and a tiny bell that jingles as we enter the space.

It’s instantly warm and comforting, everything I love about libraries.

I begin browsing the shelves, letting the scents of paper and cinnamon settle me.

After flipping through a few titles, I find one that catches my eye.

From what I can tell, it sounds like something Ophelia might enjoy.

A fallen goddess with no memory of who or what she is, fated to two males that are as similar as they are different, and their quest to rebuild a fallen kingdom and restore her memories.

I tuck the book under my arm and move on, searching for something for myself. Ayden said our physical training would lessen once the snow arrived, and I’ll have more free time in the coming months.

Eventually, I settle on a book I think I might relate to.

The demon king kidnaps the human princess on the day of her wedding and holds her hostage to incite war.

Technically, I’m trying to avoid war, but other parts hit a little too close.

Plus, the love interest has a filthy mouth from what I skimmed, and that’s enough to sell me.

“Well, hello there,” says a warm voice as I approach the counter. “You must be our new princess.”

He’s an older male with salt-and-pepper hair and deep laugh lines framing his ice-blue eyes.

I give him a warm smile. “My name’s Breyla.”

“Of course it is. Who else would be good enough for our prince other than the beautiful Breyla Rozaria?”