Page 58 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

“I’m going to exit first and distract him. You’re going to use those beautiful shadows to hide yourself in here until we’re long gone,” Aurelius commands, taking a bite of something, an apple from the smell of it.

“Will you be at the council meeting?”

“Unfortunately.” Aurelius brushes a knuckle along my cheek, the unexpected tenderness tightening my chest. “Now be a good girl and eat this before you pass out. I can hear your stomach growling.”

“Breyla, are you in here?” Ayden calls again, closer this time.

Aurelius drops the apple in my hand, ushering me into the furthest corner of the pantry. Once I’m fully cloaked in shadows, I drop the shield as he summons a Faerie light and opens the door.

“It’s just me, brother,” he says smoothly as he steps out.

“Oh, it’s you,” Ayden says flatly. “Have you seen Breyla? The council meeting starts in ten minutes, and I can’t find her anywhere.”

Aurelius grunts. “I haven’t seen her in nearly a month.” Bitterness coats the lie that rolls off his tongue.

“An unfortunate consequence of your own actions,” Ayden replies coolly.

“That you’re conveniently benefiting from,” Aurelius bites out.

“And how is that?”

“You smell of honeysuckle, Prince.”

“Oh, do I?” I can hear the smirk I know is covering Ayden’s lips.

“She may be sleeping in your bed, Ayden,” Aurelius drawls, his tone taunting. “But only one of us knows what she tastes like.”

The familiar sound of bone meeting flesh rings out, followed by a grunt from Aurelius.

He hit him.

Rage boils through my veins at the thought of Ayden punching Aurelius.

A hysterical laugh bursts from Aurelius. “What’s it like to be on the other end of someone getting under your skin, brother? Can’t handle a little of your own tactics turned against you?”

“I’ll see you in the council meeting, Aurelius,” Ayden seethes.

The sound of both males’ footsteps slowly fades as they leave the kitchen. I wait several minutes before slipping out of the pantry, shadows clinging to me like smoke.

I enter the council room ten minutes later, last to arrive. Everyone else is already present and seated. Darian sits to Ayden’s left, glaring daggers at me the moment I take my seat to Ayden’s right.

“Did you get lost, General ?” Darian sneers.

“I apologize for my tardiness. I was hungry,” I say, keeping my voice even.

“Then perhaps you should eat the apple in your hand,” Aurelius says casually from down the table.

Charlie sits beside him, her arm brushing his on the table and making my stomach turn sour. I drag my gaze away, sweeping down the rest of Ayden’s council.

Three other males occupy the chairs on my side of the table.

One is older—his hair more grey than not, and wrinkles creasing his eyes and corners of his mouth.

The other two look as if they could be related with their blond hair and moss-green eyes.

Another female occupies the last chair. If I were to guess, I would say she’s in her middle years. Not young, but not exactly old.

I bite into the apple, savoring the crisp, tangy taste that coats my tongue.

Wait.

This variety of apple isn’t tangy—it’s always sweet.

Realization hits me, and I choke on the juice. Coughing into my hand, I avoid making eye contact with anyone at the table as my face burns.

He bit into the apple before handing it to me. His mouth had been covered in my arousal. I was tasting myself on the apple.

Ignoring the quizzical looks, I force myself to chew and swallow.

Another bite.

I take another bite, bracing for the slightly off-taste this time.

“The attacks are growing more frequent,” Darian begins, thankfully drawing the room’s attention away from me.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Aurelius and the barely-there, insufferably smug smirk that plays at the corner of his lips.

I finish the apple, bite by devious bite, until all that remains is the core, as Darian details the attacks Prudia has suffered over the last month.

“Are they using the poison each time?” one of the blonds, Lord Talon, asks.

“No,” Darian answers. “They’ve only been using it roughly one attack out of every four.”

“What are the casualties like?” Charlie asks.

“Minimal when the poison isn’t used.” Darian’s navy eyes dull, and he runs a hand through his short chestnut locks. “But when it is… nearly thirty percent.”

My chest deflates. Thirty percent is catastrophic.

“And their casualties?” Ayden asks.

Darian’s jaw clenches. “Not nearly enough. As best we can tell, maybe a fifth of our own.”

My mind does the calculations, my stomach dropping at the severity of the situation.

Six percent.

For every one of their soldiers that fell, five Prudian soldiers fell in their place. This wasn’t sustainable.

“Is there any difference in the attacks when the poison is present?” I ask abruptly.

Darian shoots me an irritated look. “Not that I’m aware of.”

My brain whirls, trying to puzzle out why they would only be using the poison a quarter of the time. Either the supply was limited, which seems unlikely, or there was something different about the locations they were attacking with the poison.

Charlie starts to ask a question, but I cut her off. “Show me.”

Darian cocks a brow at me. “Show you?”

“Yes. Show me on the map where the attacks with poison happened.”

“I don’t see why the location matt—” Charlie starts.

“I thought you were supposed to be clever, Charlotte.”

She rears back as if I had physically struck her.

Shooting to her feet, a look of disbelief covers her face. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” I turn back to Darian. “Now show me. There must be a pattern here somewhere.”

“Sit down, Charlotte,” Lord Talon chides, shooting me an encouraging look. “Let the generals work this out.”

A vexed huff leaves Charlie’s lips as she drops back down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Darian unfurls a map across the table in front of me, marking various spots around the kingdom with an X for the attacks where poison was used, an O for those where it wasn’t.

“These are the locations of every attack over the last year. Now tell me what pattern I’m not seeing,” Darian demands, but it lacks his usual bite.

“What about prior to the last year?”

A darkness swims in Darian’s eyes, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have records of those,” he grits, anger and something far darker lacing his tone.

Ayden clears his throat, drawing my attention to him. “Those records exist only in the memory of my previous general.”

I read between the words Ayden is and isn’t saying.

The previous general is dead.

It’s something I should have known, having been in conflict with Prudia for far longer than the last year, but I had missed something.

“We’ll work with what we’ve got,” I concede. Darian’s posture relaxes, and I store that information away.

I study the various marks on the map, looking for something, anything at all that will provide a pattern for me to work with.

Darian’s calloused fingers trace over the map, the wheels turning in his mind.

Several minutes pass in silence before I release a defeated sigh.

“Godsdammit. There’s something here, there must be .”

“Or perhaps…” Darian says, dropping back into his chair. He rubs his jaw, his brow furrowing. “You aren’t as clever as everyone lets you believe.”

A low snarl rumbles from Aurelius, but Ayden speaks over him. “That’s enough, General.”

“Unbelievable,” Darian mutters, shaking his head.

“Lady Seris, has there been any progress with the tonic?” Ayden asks, redirecting the conversation.

The older female smiles, the corners of her lips not quite reaching her eyes.

“I’m disappointed to report that a cure for the poison still evades us.

We were, however, able to formulate a tonic that slows the spread.

As far as we can tell, it extends the life expectancy by up to a few days.

Just depending on when the tonic is administered. ”

“You’re working on a cure?” I ask, recalling how Aurelius and Ophelia both failed to counter the poison’s effects.

“We’re trying ,” Lady Seris iterates.

“The results have been less than ideal,” Ayden explains.

“It’s something, though. Right?” I can’t help the traces of hope that linger in my tone.

Ayden squeezes my hand. “It’s a start.”

The meeting continues, questions and updates flying faster than I can keep up, while I simultaneously fixate on the map still spread on the table. The pattern is there. I just haven’t found it yet.

I manage to pay attention enough to learn that the other blond male is named Oren, and he is, in fact, the brother of Talon.

They are the ruling lords in the town south of the capital and are responsible for crafting the majority of the weapons used by the Prudian army.

Lady Seris is a healer with a family-run apothecary in Andhull.

The eldest male with the graying hair is Lord Fenwick.

He served on King Ayden I’s council and has a knack for battle strategy.

His body no longer allows him to train, but his mind remains sharp.

As the meeting draws to a close, there’s one absence I can’t understand.

“Does your mother not attend these meetings?” I ask Ayden as the council members file out of the room.

“She normally does, but there were matters that took her away from Elentia today.”

Our walk down the hall is quiet for several minutes until Ayden finally breaks the silence. “I didn’t want to bring it up in the meeting because there’s not much we can do for now, but reports are coming in from Rimor. The attacks on your borders have become severe, Princess.”

Nails dig crescent moons into the palm of my hand, the frustration at my situation boiling my blood. “How severe?”

“More towns are being evacuated, and food has become scarce.” He slips his hands into the pockets of his trousers, tension radiating from him in waves. “Farms and livestock are burning as your people flood the capital.”