The Sorrow of Shadows (Crimson & Shadows #1)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

brEYLA

T he setting sun casts red and gold tones throughout my room, bathing everything in a peaceful glow. I’m lounging in a wingback chair, my feet propped up on a cushioned stool as I read the first chapter in my newest book. It’s a guilty pleasure I don’t have the opportunity to indulge in when on the battlefield, and one that I desperately need after the last several days. The words paint a moving picture in my mind, allowing me to forget my current situation and breathe. Even if for only a moment, it allowed me to live in someone else’s story, feel their emotions, and forget the world around me.

As the sun finally disappears and the light begins to fade, a knock sounds on my door. Standing swiftly, I close my book and cross my room, relishing the cool touch of smooth stone on my bare feet. I find Ophelia holding a pitcher of fresh wine on the other side of the door. She smiles at me softly, the last of the gloaming light catching her raven locks and highlighting the blue tones. Her gray eyes sparkle, and though she shares her deplorable father’s eyes, hers were soft and welcoming, contrasting his cold and dead orbs. Where I’m toned curves and muscles, she’s soft and feminine. Her beauty is truly magnificent. Power or not, it was a mystery why no one had pursued her yet.

“Someone left this outside your door,” Ophelia says, lifting the wine jug to me in offering.

“Oh perfect, I’ve been waiting for that. Thank you.” I take the jug from her outstretched arms. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you, My Lady.” She enters and closes the door behind her.

“Just Breyla,” I insist. I hadn’t been a ‘Lady’ since I started training with my father’s soldiers at fourteen. It felt strange being referred to in that manner. I pour myself a healthy cup of wine and reach for a second. “Would you care for a glass, Ophelia?”

“Oh, no thank you. Truthfully, I don’t handle spirits well. It takes very little before the room spins and I make a fool of myself.” She looks embarrassed.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re a lightweight?” I chuckle.

“That’s one word for it, I suppose.”

“Oh, now that’s something I must see at some point. You’ll have to play drinking games with Eli and I sometime. If you drink with that one, it won’t take long to build your tolerance.” I see her eyes light at the mention of Eli. Interesting.

“Perhaps sometime.” She’s trying very hard not to show her excitement at the thought of Elijah.

I table that discussion and change subjects to what’s been on my mind. “I must say, it was quite humorous to see your father accuse me of reaching for the crown at the last council meeting.”

She smiles coyly, a gentle blush coloring her cheeks. “I heard it was quite the show. I wonder where he could have possibly come up with such a ridiculous story.” If I wasn’t sure about her before, I am now. I like Ophelia .

“Where, indeed.” I sport a grin bordering on maniacal. “Sit, let’s chat,” I say, falling onto the bed and gesturing to the spot next to me. “You have earned my trust, so tell me more about yourself. I know you grew up in court, but I don’t feel I really know you.”

It’s my fault, but I honestly didn’t know many ladies. I had known early in life that I preferred swords and fists over needlepoint and gossip. My mother never pushed me to socialize with other girls my age, and my father encouraged my interest in training to take over control of the royal armies. I would have grown bored with the females at court very quickly. I lacked the ability to filter my thoughts around those that annoyed me, making it hard to relate to the women who spouted pretty words to hide their true opinions. Even if my mouth didn’t say what I was thinking, my face certainly would. That was one reason I felt ill suited for the throne. Another being that I simply did not want to rule. For some reason I felt like Ophelia would get along with my brand of crude honesty just fine.

“That truly means a lot to me,” she says, smiling shyly. “I’m not sure what you’d like to know. My mother died when I was young, and my father pays me little attention because I’m worthless to him without power. My brother, Layne, is really the only one I talk to. Father often has him away from court on business, so I don’t get to see him much.”

Most of this I already knew. “Your worth is not determined by your power. You determine your worth, Ophelia. Never forget that.”

Unfortunately, most of our society would agree with her father. Our people value power over anything else. Those with stronger or rarer magical Gifts were more likely to be elevated in status—given titles, lands, better marriage prospects. It’s bullshit and not something I heavily value with my soldiers. Sure, those with Gifts are valuable, but I care far more for those who have discipline and can follow orders .

“Thank you, Breyla. I wish more people thought like you.”

“I do, too. Now tell me what you enjoy doing for fun, your hobbies, any males you fancy?” I wanted to know more about her. I had never really had female friends, so I was searching for common ground with her.

“I enjoy reading. I’ll read practically anything I can get my hands on. Romance and adventure are my favorites.” She was beaming now. This was something I could relate to easily. “As for males, there’s been no talk of potential matches from my father. I think he believes he won’t be able to marry me off to anyone of high enough standing, so he just doesn’t try. There is someone at court, though, that I admire from afar. We haven’t really spoken much, but he seems kind.”

The last part had piqued my interest. “I love reading myself. I don’t get to do it much since I’m on the battlefield. You shall have to give me some recommendations. Now tell me who this male is that you admire.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that. It’s not like it will go anywhere, so there’s no point in telling anyone.”

“Telling me won’t hurt anything. I won’t tell anyone, cross my heart.”

“Fine,” Ophelia groans, “but you can’t tell him. Swear it.”

“I swear; now spill,” I demand.

“It’s Lord Elijah,” she mumbles.

I gasp loudly, clutching my chest. “You like Elijah?!” My words are teasing.

She grabs the pillow behind her and smacks me with it playfully. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Now you’re making fun of me,” she pouts.

“Oh, come on now, I’m not making fun of you. If anything, I’m surprised Elijah has an admirer. He may be pretty, but he’s a flirt and a complete ass.” I try to reassure her. “You could do much better. ”

“I know he’s a flirt, but he doesn’t seem like an ass,” she reasons.

“Oh, but he is. It’s one of my favorite things about him.” I grin over the rim of my glass as I take another sip. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Why would I do that?” She seems genuinely curious.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“I have no power, so no one will want me. I’m just a burden at this point.” Her insistence on coming back to this point was annoying. Mostly because that line of thinking irked me, even though it wasn’t her fault. It was likely engrained in her seeing as that’s how most people thought, so I couldn’t fault her for it. I could try to break her of it, though.

I grab her hand and look her in her beautiful silver eyes. “Listen to me, Ophelia, you are not a burden.” I enunciate every word to drive home my point. “I know that’s what most people think, but they’re wrong, and I would never have kept Elijah as my best friend for this long if that’s how he thought. The choice to tell him is yours, but don’t make it based on what you think he will believe. I promise you Elijah won’t care whether you have power or not. That’s not the kind of male he is.”

I don’t know if she believes me, but she seems to smile brighter. We spend the rest of the night talking about books and getting to know one another. I don’t know if all females are this way, but I know that I want to keep this one around.

I’m unsure what time it is when I hear someone enter my room. Groggily, I reach for the dagger I keep under my pillow. Whoever it is isn’t even trying to be stealthy. I hear their heavy footsteps cross the room to my bed. My eyes are open now, but unfocused as I try to leap from my bed to meet my attacker. Something is wrong, though. My limbs are slow to respond, and it feels like I’m moving through molasses. My normally graceful movements and agility are nowhere to be found.

The male in front of me grins and cocks his head at me, “Something wrong, Princess?” There’s humor in his voice. I can’t seem to focus on his face long enough to identify him. He’s male, but that’s all I can make out. My vision blurry, I swipe out in an arc attempting to cut him. My movements are slow, and he easily deflects, pushing my arm away from his face.

“Wha...do you want?” My words slur, but it’s close enough for him to make out what I’m saying.

“From you? Nothing. Nothing, except your death, that is.” He chuckles and lunges forward, burying his knife deep in my gut. It’s not placed somewhere that will kill me immediately, but I will bleed out painfully. I grunt but take the opportunity to do my own damage by stabbing my dagger into his thigh. I don’t have the strength to drive it deeply, but it’ll still hurt.

“You bitch!” he exclaims while pushing me away.

The bed cushions me as I fall, the blade still lodged in my abdomen. The pain is excruciating, and I let loose a scream before my attacker can get to me to cover my mouth. There’s a fire burning in my stomach where the knife remains lodged in place. My scream was loud enough for someone to hear. Extra guards were stationed right next to my quarters, outside Aurelius's room. How the attacker got past them is a mystery, and one I can’t ponder right now. Instead, I pray someone heard me.

Black starts to creep into the edges of my vision, and I know I’m on the verge of passing out from blood loss. It’s the scent of bergamot and rich spices that greets me and the words, “Stay with me, little demon,” that I hear as I finally drift into the blackness.