Page 66 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

OPHELIA

I t takes us two days to reach Caedel, or what remains of it. The city had been the first attacked and evacuated by Jade. What was once our most prominent border town is now smoking rubble.

To avoid being seen, we fall into a strange rhythm.

Cillian’s gift grants us the unique ability to move undetected by day, but since we’re in the part of the year with the least amount of sunlight, we opt to sleep during the brightest part of the day.

Cillian covers Elijah and me while we rest, and we keep watch over him in the early morning hours before the sun has risen.

Snow falls on our second day, getting heavier as we near the border of Prudia. Thankfully, the mercenary garb is outfitted for any weather condition. The cloaks provide plenty of protection against the biting cold, but I can’t shake the dampness that clings to my bones.

We’re all running on fumes by the time we reach the empty city walls. There’s been no attacks, but we all feel it. It’s the sense of anticipation, of someone watching our every move.

The streets are littered with debris, some buildings even still smoking.

Occasionally, we pass the fallen soldier, but what’s worse is when we pass the bodies of innocent civilians.

I shoot up a prayer to the gods for all those that we pass along the way.

It’s wrong to leave their bodies in the street, and something aches deep inside of me for their souls.

“They should have been burned,” I say solemnly.

“There wasn’t time,” Elijah explains. “Jade couldn’t even afford the time to burn her fallen with the effort it took to evacuate the city.”

His words don’t make me feel any better. They don’t assuage the wrongness I feel at seeing the dead neglected so carelessly.

The setting sun casts an amber hue over the city, turning the freshly fallen snow to a golden shade that almost seems beautiful. Eventually, we find a moderately intact inn.

“We’ll stay here for the night,” Cillian declares.

“You think it’s safe to stop here?” Elijah challenges.

“Safe is a relative term. I think if I keep going in this state, I’m of no use to anyone if we’re attacked.”

Cillian pushes through the door, doing a sweep of the first floor to ensure safety. He motions for Elijah to check the second floor as he moves towards a long hallway of doors, presumably guest rooms.

Elijah draws his sword, taking the stairs to the upper floor. I find the kitchen, searching for food that may have been left behind. Every canister is overturned, the pantry stripped bare, and I sigh. The oven is intact, but it means nothing without food to cook.

“I guess it’s another night of hard bread and dried meat,” I mumble, turning back for the foyer.

Elijah returns, taking the stairs down two by two. “The upper floors are clear, but most of the rooms have been destroyed, so I’m not sure they’ll be of much use.”

“There’s no food.”

“But I found a bottle of whiskey and one intact bed on the first floor,” Cillian adds as he returns, cracking open the bottle of liquor and taking a swig.

My brows shoot up, mouth hanging slightly ajar. “Should you really be drinking right now?”

“Relax, sweetheart. One drink won’t impair me more than what the sleep deprivation is already doing.” Cillian offers me the bottle, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Have a taste. It’ll help warm you.”

Pushing it away, I say, “No, thank you. The only thing I want right now is a warm bath and a bed.”

“Last door at the end of the hall,” Cillian says. “But you’re not going to find a hot bath here.”

“I’d even settle for a cold bath if it meant I got to wash the grime off.” I push the door open, taking in the only available room. There’s a bed, a fireplace, and not much else. Not even a bathtub in sight.

Sighing, I drop the pack to the floor. Elijah and Cillian file in behind me.

“There’s only one bed,” I yawn.

“It’s a big bed, though,” Cillian adds, dropping his own pack next to mine. His cloak drops next, followed by his boots.

“W-What are you doing?” I stammer.

Cillian’s scarred brow raises, “Uh, getting ready for bed. You didn’t expect me to sleep fully clothed, did you?”

“You’ve slept fully clothed for the last three days?—”

“I was sleeping on the ground, so, yeah. But now there’s a bed.” His tone is so matter-of-fact, like he can’t see why this would be an issue. His shirt comes off next, leaving him in only his leather pants.

Goddess help me.

The muscles of his abdomen are expertly crafted, no doubt honed from years of training. He’s no more impressive than Elijah, so why can’t I look away?

Cillian catches me staring, his full lips smirking as he shoots me a wink. “Don’t worry. I’ve been told I’m a great cuddler.”

Elijah grunts, taking off his own shirt and boots, before pulling me into his chest and slanting his lips over mine. The kiss is a show of pure possession and devotion. I melt into him, letting his tongue explore every part of my mouth.

Cillian clears his throat, breaking the spell between us. “This isn’t having the effect you think it is.” His tone is heated, eyes molten as he stares at us.

“Ugh,” I groan, shoving away from Elijah. I drop my cloak, but decide it’s probably best if I remain in my leathers tonight. “I take it you expect us all to share that bed?”

“There’s not exactly room on the floor, sweetheart.” Cillain slides into bed, patting the empty space beside him.

Elijah smirks, sliding into the middle of the bed. “Do you prefer big or little spoon, sweetheart? ”

Without missing a beat, Cillian replies, “I’m always big spoon.” He throws his arm around Elijah’s waist.

I don’t hide the giggle that spills out as I join them in bed, curling into Elijah’s side. In our exhausted state, it takes us minutes to find sleep.

My eyes flare open when I feel a hand cover my mouth. Cillian stares down at me, fully clothed, weapons strapped to every available space. I’m reminded of just how deadly this male is. He lifts a finger to his lips, signaling for me to remain silent.

Elijah is dressing at the end of the bed, lacing his boots into place. I’m immediately grateful I decided to stay fully clothed last night.

Was it even last night? The moonlight streaming in through the single window suggests it’s not yet dawn. I nod my understanding that I know I need to remain quiet, and Cillian removes his hand, handing me a dagger instead.

I wrap my fingers around the hilt, trying to listen for a potential threat, for an answer as to why we’re awake already. I’m unsure how to use the dagger, but I get the general idea. Stab with the sharp end.

Sliding my feet over the edge of the bed, I lace up my boots and reach for the cloak. Elijah fastens it in place, pecking my lips before turning to Cillian.

They nod at each other, speaking a language I’m unfamiliar with. Swords drawn, they exit the room, keeping me behind them. I follow, my steps light and dagger gripped tightly in my fist.

A floorboard creaks overhead, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent inn. Cillian points to the upper floor and holds up three fingers. I take that to mean there are three people on the floor above. He holds a hand in front of us, signaling for us to stop.

In the blink of an eye, Cillian disappears into thin air. I have no questions about what is happening when I hear the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor, followed by grunts and the sharp clash of steel on steel.

Elijah whips his head toward the foyer just as a figure steps into view. The male is dressed head to toe in black, crimson eyes the only splash of color.

Elijah doesn’t stop to ask questions. He charges the attacker, weapon drawn.

Swords clash, the metal ringing and bodies moving faster than I can track. Elijah eventually outmaneuvers his opponent, driving his sword deep through the center of the male’s chest.

Cillian rounds the corner, blood dripping from his blade. “Nice work. Sorry, the three upstairs took me longer than normal. These Fae bastards are tough.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, wiping away the blood streaking down his face.

“I’m fine,” he replies, grinning. “But your concern is adorable. One of the arseholes threw a dagger, but it only skimmed me.”

Regardless, I press my palm to the cut and push healing energy into him, watching the skin mend itself instantly. Relief floods my system as the wound disappears, knowing that whatever dagger cut Cillian wasn’t poisoned. We walk toward the foyer, trepidation filling every step.

All I hear is the sharp whistle of wind just before arrows shoot through the broken windows and door. We drop to the floor, rolling towards anything that can act as a shield.

I land behind an overturned table, but Elijah and Cillian have found refuge behind the bar. At least six feet separate us as arrows continue to rain down on the room, thudding into walls and furniture like a relentless storm.

My chest heaves as I work to steady my rapid breathing. Across the room, Cillian and Elijah peek out from behind the bar.

“The sun is starting to rise.” Cillian waves his hand, gesturing me over. “If you can get over here, I should be able to dispatch the rest of the attackers.”

Another volley of arrows streams in, splintering the wall above my head. I let out a shriek, covering my head with my hands. “I don’t think I can make it.”

“You can do this, sweetheart,” Cillian urges.

“You’ve got this, baby.” Elijah stretches out his hand. “On my count.”

I worry my lower lip, nodding. “Okay.”

“One… two…” Elijah starts, breaking eye contact only long enough to look out toward our attackers. “Three!”

I push off the floor, sprinting across the space between us and diving for safety. Arrows fly past, slamming into the wall behind me.

I startle, turning right as another flies straight for my face, and freeze.

Elijah’s hand shoots out, catching the arrow before it can touch me. Cillian pulls me into his chest, tucking me firmly behind the bar.

Wiping his hands on his pants, Elijah throws the arrow down. “Shit, they’re tipped with poison.”

“Are you okay?” I grab his hand, turning it over and over, searching for any open wounds for the poison to infect.

“I’m fine, doll,” Elijah reassures me, tugging his hand from my grasp.

“Just a few more minutes,” Cillian says, watching the window for the first rays of light.

The next few minutes feel like an hour as we wait for light.

Cillian grins when the morning sun finally stretches across the floor next to him.

Winking, he twirls the light around his fingers before disappearing entirely.

Surprised grunts and the sound of bodies dropping are all we hear as Cillian makes quick work of the Fae outside the inn.

“It’s safe to come out,” Cillian yells.

When we step outside, no less than a dozen Fae corpses litter the street. Cillian leans casually against the wall, one foot crossed in front of the other, looking utterly bored.

“You just took out a dozen Fae warriors in a matter of minutes,” I say, my eyes flaring wide at all the bodies on the ground.

“It wasn’t nepotism that got me the title of King of the Midnight Brotherhood, sweetheart.”

“Arrogant, much?” I ask.

Cillian swipes a cloth along his daggers, sheathing them as he goes. “It’s not arrogance if it’s earned. That’s called confidence.”

Elijah rolls his eyes and moves to check the horses. Somehow, miraculously, they’re untouched.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve grown quite fond of Beastie in the last few days.

I load his saddle bags, eager to leave Caedel behind.

“If we make good time, we can be in Prudia by nightfall,” Elijah says as he mounts Honey.

Cillian mounts Midnight, urging him forward. “We should be able to reach the capital by tomorrow afternoon, just as long as there’s no more attacks along the way.”

A few minutes pass before Elijah asks, “Are we going to discuss the Gift you’ve been hiding, or the fact that you haven’t used it to transport us closer to Prudia?”

“I’m allowed to have secrets, Elijah.” Cillian grunts. “How many people know about your second gift?”

“Touche, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“I have limitations. I can only move short distances if I’m carrying others,” Cillian explains.

“How far?” I ask.

“Perhaps a few miles at most. More than that would require days to recover.”

I tilt my head at Cillian. “What family of Gifts does this fall under? I’ve never met anyone with the ability.”

“I’ve heard it referred to as Travelling,” he replies. “But I’ve never met anyone within Rimor that possessed the power. Others exist, but I’m not sure how the Gift is classified.”

“Perhaps it deserves a classification all its own. It doesn’t quite fit the existing families of Gifts.” I wrap the cloak tighter around my shoulders, the hood falling low across my forehead.

We arrive at the edge of Caedel, the sun high enough to light our way and provide some warmth against the chill of the winter wind.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” Elijah says, kicking his horse into a brisk trot.

We’re all eager to leave this place behind for the safety of Prudia. That’s a sentiment I never fathomed until just now.