The Sorrow of Shadows (Crimson & Shadows #1)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

OPHELIA

P ain courses through my entire body, and I bite my tongue to keep from screaming. A metallic tangy taste spills through my mouth when I bite too deeply. I would have hit the ground if I hadn’t already been sitting. I still feel my father’s electric currents traveling through my limbs as I gasp and struggle to pull oxygen into my lungs. This is significantly worse than previous punishments. Father is livid, and it’s my fault.

“How dare you make me look like a fool in front of the council,” he seethes. Truthfully, it had been long enough since the council meeting that I believed he had forgotten. I was wrong.

Still gasping for air, I can’t respond so he continues, “The information you gave me was wrong. I made an idiot of myself accusing the princess of plotting against the queen.” If I could speak, I might tell him that he didn’t need my help to look like an idiot, so it’s probably better that I can’t form words.

The pain begins receding, eclipsed by a tingling sensation that travels down my fingers. “My apologies, Father. I didn’t know it was false information.” The lies roll off my tongue so easily. “Perhaps the princess does not trust me as much as we believed.”

“Little good that observation does me now, stupid girl,” he spits. “What else can you tell me? And don’t even think about lying.”

“She’s hosting a ball to celebrate the engagement between Lord Aurelius and Queen Genevieve,” I start. The information isn’t exactly a secret, but word hasn’t yet made its way around court. The look in his eyes tells me he’s intrigued.

“Why? Does she have some ulterior motive?”

“I believe she wishes to meet with Prince Ayden II of Prudia. I’m not sure why, but perhaps it’s a cover to conspire with him in some way.” The last part is a lie, but close enough to the truth that it’s believable. I see excitement dance in his eyes.

“Now that I can work with.” A sinister smile spreads across his face. “See if you can find out anything more.”

“What are you going to do with this?” I try to keep my tone even.

“That is none of your concern, girl,” he replies, harsh and patronizing. His insistence on still calling me ‘girl’ grates against me.

I don’t register the sound of crackling before it’s too late. A fresh wave of lightning hits me, stronger than the last. His last words are muffled as blackness takes over my vision and I lose the battle to stay conscious.

When I awaken several hours later, the sun has begun its descent in the west. Every bone in my body aches, and my skin is sensitive to the touch. My nerves feel like they’re on fire, and the effort it takes me to sit up causes bile to creep up my throat. After a few long minutes, I can finally push myself off the floor and onto my feet. I gently roll my shoulders, trying to stretch out the stiff muscles.

I examine my reflection in the mirror and find my eyes are streaked with red and the braided crown I had this morning is nearly undone. I look like I fought a dragon. Hell, I feel like I fought a dragon. And the dragon definitely won this round. I pull my remaining hair free from its braid and comb through the long ebony locks with my fingers. I splash cool water on my face from a bowl on the vanity, then smooth out my dress as best I can.

The walk to Breyla’s chambers is short but allows me time to stretch my aching body. My knuckles wrap softly on her door, and it only takes a moment to fly open. A panicked-looking Elijah greets me.

“What’s wrong?” I blurt, immediately on edge.

He groans, “Oh, thank the gods you’re here, beautiful. Your princess needs you.” His answer doesn’t soothe my nerves.

“Would you quit being so dramatic?” I hear Breyla protest behind him. I peak around the mountain that is Elijah and find a half-dressed princess clutching a corset to her chest. I cock an eyebrow at them both. It’s not Breyla being half-dressed that surprises me, but that she’s wearing a dress at all. A dress she looks rather uncomfortable in.

“Mother insisted I wear a gown for dinner tonight. I don’t actually know the last time I had to wear one of these horrible contraptions, and I couldn’t find you so I asked Elijah to help me dress.”

“I got my finger stuck in the laces and it started turning purple. I really don’t understand these things.” Elijah shudders.

“You probably can’t even count how many corsets you’ve taken off, but suddenly you can’t help me put on just one?” Breyla stares at him incredulously .

“Exactly, B. I take them off. Never do I have to help them go back on,” he states matter-of-factly. This doesn’t surprise me, but it does make a strange sensation settle in my chest.

“Well, if you’re not going to be any help, get lost,” Breyla huffs.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, doll. I’ll see you at dinner.” Elijah makes his way to the door. He pauses next to me and leans in close. “Thanks for the rescue. Just let me know if you need help unlacing any corsets later.” The last part is said low enough that only I hear it. Before I can process his words fully, I feel his lips on my cheek. The kiss is brief, but the feeling on my skin lingers as butterflies erupt low in my belly.

“What did he say to you?” Breyla asks, sounding intrigued.

“Um...” My cheeks warm as I stutter my response. “To let him know if I need any help unlacing corsets later.”

Breyla throws her head back as a full-body laugh erupts from her. “He would say something like that. That male...” She shakes her head. “Now can you please help me lace this thing?” she practically begs.

I chuckle. “Yes, of course. You look absolutely pitiful trying to do it on your own.” I get to work untangling all the knots Elijah left for me.

“How in the world did he manage this?” I question as I get the last of the knots cleared.

“I truly don’t know,” Breyla says, shaking her head.

I begin lacing it back up, starting loose and then tightening as I go. I weave the lace back and forth, over and under, until it reaches the top. By the end of it, my already aching fingers are trembling. “There you are, right as rain.” I tie her laces off and tuck them in the back.

She turns to me, giving me a full view of the dress. It’s a sleek, long-sleeved black gown, the neckline cut low and showing off the tops of her breasts. Light freckles dot from her face down her neck and collarbone. The rest of the gown is simple for someone of her standing. No embellishments or slits to expose her leg. I reach for the diadem sitting on her armoire and place it on her head with trembling hands.

I gently try to rub the pain out of my fingers and give her a soft smile. “Beautiful,” I whisper.

As I drop my hands, I feel Breyla’s lightly grasp my wrists. I fight a flinch and force my face to stay neutral. She doesn’t miss it, though. She lifts my hands to inspect them, taking care to remain gentle and not cause any more pain.

“What. Happened.” Each word is sharp and demanding, though I know her ire is not directed at me. She can’t physically see anything on my skin, but the trembling in my hands and the flinch from the lightest of touches is something I can’t hide.

“The information I provided Father was less than satisfactory,” I admit.

A look of shock crosses her face. “This is because of me?”

“No. I made the decision, and I stand by it and the consequences.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “I have very little control over my life; I will not let anyone else take credit for my decisions. They are mine, and mine alone.”

Breyla ponders this a moment then decides to let me keep what little autonomy I have. “I wish to discuss something with you that I should have brought up sooner.”

Internally, I bristle, unsure where this is going. “Okay,” I start softly and evenly. “About what?”

“I’m no fool, Ophelia. I know I should be dead right now. The night I was attacked, you healed me. Aurelius said I should speak to you.”

I release my breath, unsure why I was nervous in the first place. It might be the number of times my father has started a conversation the same way and ended it with unrelenting pain courtesy of his lightning.

“I did,” I confirm .

“And yet, the whole castle believes you to not have powers. Why is that?”

I smile sadly. “My powers manifested later than most. I was twenty-three, and by then my father already believed I was powerless. He has always treated me poorly, but when my powers didn’t come in during my adolescence, his treatment of me grew worse. He made it clear through his actions that he wasn’t above using anyone—especially his own daughter—for personal gain. I don’t know the details of his business dealings, but I know my father is unequivocally not a good male. I refuse to be used by him. If he knew my true abilities, I have no doubt he would find some way to use me—probably to hurt others.”

Breyla contemplates my words for a moment. “What an ass,” she huffs.

A half-hearted chuckle escapes me. “That’s an understatement.”

“So, help me understand something. Can you not heal yourself?” She looks confused.

I sigh, “Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite work that way. When I heal someone, it’s more like I’m trading my energy for their healing. So, I might be able to manage small things, like cuts or bruises, but when he gets like this...” Hesitation fills my voice. “Let’s just say I don’t have the energy to stand, let alone try to heal myself.”

“So, you’re trading your life force for another when you heal them.” I can see her making the connection in her mind. “Meaning when it’s your own body that needs healing, there’s nothing to trade.”

“Essentially.”

“I guess we have so few true healers that we don’t know much about how their power works,” she muses. “I see why you would want to keep the knowledge of your power to yourself. That information in the wrong hands...”

“Could be deadly. ”

Among other things, I think to myself .

“I can’t in good conscience keep asking you to feed information to him.” Anguish flashes in her eyes.

“Don’t,” I say, my voice stern, and she looks taken aback. “Don’t you dare take that decision from me. I decide what risks to take and what my actions are. You will not take that from me,” My guess is she didn’t expect to hear this boldness from me. The truth is, she is one of the only people I feel safe enough with to expose this vulnerability.

She nods her head in understanding. “Alright, I can respect that. But if I ever catch him hurting you, I will make him live to regret ever laying a finger on you.” I can feel the fire in her words as shadows dance in the corner of her eyes.

“Why would you protect someone you barely know?”

“I know your soul, Ophelia. I may not have known you for very long, but actions will always speak louder than words. I also know you volunteer your time with the castle physician, something no one would expect or ask of you. Your actions sing of a pure and genuine soul. You endured torture for me when you could have sold me out. I do know you, Ophelia. I will always protect those that have earned my loyalty.” Tears burn the back of my eyes as her words fill something in me I didn’t know was empty. Breyla pulls me firmly into her chest as her arms wrap around me. I squeeze her back, my head pressed firmly into her bosom. I listen to her heartbeat for a minute before I finally wheeze out, “Your breasts are smothering me.”

Her breathy laugh escapes as she releases me and steps back. “I forget how much these dresses shove them out there. My leathers have bindings built in, but it’s easier to dress myself and definitely doesn’t accentuate my chest like these awful dresses.”

“In all fairness, most of the people you’re accustomed to hugging are taller than me,” I say with a shrug.

“Most of them would also probably not complain if I smothered them,” she chuckles .

“By most of them, you’re talking about Elijah, aren’t you?” It isn’t even really a question, and we both know it.

“Touche.” We’re both laughing hysterically now.

“Now that our princess is properly dressed, let’s get to dinner. I’m starving. Being electrocuted really works up an appetite,” I joke. She cocks her head at me wide eyed, a disbelieving look on her face. I just shrug and usher her out the door.

As we make our way down the hall, she litters me with questions on what I believe Father is up to. “Given the situation, it’s hard to say if he is being truthful. I did make him believe you had ulterior motives with throwing the engagement ball. I think he believed that.”

“But I do have ulterior motives,” she says, quirking an auburn brow at me.

“I know, but I let him believe you’re scheming with Prince Ayden, not against him.”

“Clever girl,” she grins.

We continue in silence for several minutes. I notice eventually that every couple steps a bare toe pops out from beneath her skirts. It’s not at all surprising that the general of the royal army would rather walk barefoot than be forced into ladies’ slippers.

Breyla is a walking paradox to everything a princess should be. She speaks her mind, is foul mouthed, acts first and thinks second, roams the halls barefoot, and seems to detest everything that comes with being a princess. It makes me admire her even more. I’ve spent so long trying to do what is expected of me that I feel like I don’t quite know who I am at my core. Being in her presence feels like permission to break those chains and discover myself.

“Join me for wine after dinner,” she offers.

“As much as I would love that, I am actually looking forward to some peace and quiet. Father left the capital on business earlier today. I plan on reading and drinking all his most expensive wines, then replacing them with the bitter stuff the kitchen serves to the guests they don’t like.”

“He left on business?” She completely ignores my wine scheming.

I hum in confirmation and catch the look in her eyes. The wheels are turning, but I’m not sure what she’s thinking. The gold flecks of her emerald irises sparkle in the soft fairy lights of the castle hallway. Just the corner of her mouth quirks briefly before her expression turns unreadable.

We finally reach the royal family’s private dining room to find we are the last to arrive. Queen Genevieve is seated at the head of the long mahogany table, Aurelius on her right, followed by the twins Jade and Julian. Further down the table are a few cousins and distant relatives.

“Nice of you two to finally join us,” Elijah teases.

Breyla just flips him her middle finger, and I shrug. “If you hadn’t made such a mess of Breyla’s corset laces it wouldn’t have taken me so long to get her dressed.” I don’t miss the flare of Lord Aurelius's nostrils and the way his eyes dart to Elijah. Breyla takes her place between the queen and Elijah, sitting across from Lord Aurelius.

Elijah pulls out the chair next to him for me to sit. As I settle, he leans in to whisper, “I already told you—I’m much better at removing them.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks as Elijah lets out a grunt. A look around Elijah shows me that Breyla has shoved her elbow into his ribs. “I heard that. Everyone heard that. Stop flirting at the dinner table.”

Elijah runs a hand through his dirty-blond curls, hanging loosely down past his shoulders, and leans back in his chair. “Or what, Princess? You might hold your own in leathers, but what exactly do you plan on doing in that dress?”

It’s the queen that surprises us all with, “Elijah, you very well know that my daughter can put you on your back regardless of what she wears. A dress doesn’t make your opponent any less lethal; it makes them more dangerous. Most are just too ignorant to see that.” This silences Elijah.

I wish my father were here to hear what was just said. It’s not just me he undervalues and underestimates—it’s all females. He’s remarked more than once on how Breyla is unfit to command the royal army and how Queen Genevieve is inept and frail. My mother died when Layne and I were young and he never remarried. He claims it’s because no one could ever replace her, but in truth I believe it’s because females can’t stand him. His hatred of them is disgusting.

Servants begin to fill the table with food—roast lamb, herbed potatoes, warm vegetable broth, freshly baked rolls, and port wine soon fill the dishes in front of me. The aroma permeates the room and my stomach rumbles. I finally realize how hungry I truly am. How long has it been since I last ate? Since before my encounter with Father this morning at least...so dinner last night? I wait patiently for the queen to take the first bite before digging into the mouth-watering foods in front of me.

As the sounds of silverware hitting plates ring out, I bite into a piece of roast lamb. The juices dribble down my chin, and I let out a small moan of food-induced pleasure. I am so much hungrier than I realized. I feel the heat of Elijah’s gaze on me, and I turn to meet him. His eyes are trained on me in an intense stare, watching the juices on my lips run down my chin. Embarrassed, I reach for my napkin and clean my face. Luckily, most people are too involved in their meals to notice what is happening between us.

“Have you made any progress with figuring out who is behind Commander Nolan’s death?” Lord Aurelius asks Breyla.

“Not much,” Breyla grits. Her tone is clipped and guarded. “I’m following up on a potential lead tomorrow.”

Aurelius's eyes scan Breyla, analyzing her. He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Who might this lead be? ”

“That’s classified, Lord Aurelius.” Even I can sense the bullshit in her words. She just doesn’t want to tell him, but I have no idea why. It’s difficult to read the situation with Breyla and Aurelius. He seems to care about her, but she fights him tooth and nail at every turn. At the same time, he knows exactly what to say to get under her skin.

His eyes narrow to slits, and I swear the fork in his hand bends. His next words are low and bitter. “Lying does not become you, Princess.”

“And being a nosey insufferable prick doesn’t become you, Lord Aurelius,” Breyla snaps back.

“Enough,” Queen Genevieve barks as the temperature in the room drops to a teeth-chattering level. I can see my own breath and hear the hiss coming from Breyla. The queen has frozen both Breyla and Aurelius's hands in place. She has teeth, a fact commonly overlooked until someone pushes her too far. Outwardly she was everything expected of a queen—patient, kind, gentle, and compassionate. She was also decisive, stern when necessary, and fiercely protective. She seemed willing to do what was necessary for the good of her people.

Breyla’s face softens. “Yes, Mother.”

Aurelius's expression doesn’t shift, but he nods to the queen, implying his compliance.

The queen seems satisfied enough with their reaction that she releases the ice binding them, and the room returns to a normal level. Both Aurelius and Breyla rub the stiffness out of their hands, the color slowly returning from blue to their natural tones. Jade and Julian share a look and snicker, while Elijah’s back silently shakes with restrained laughter. I get the feeling I’m either missing something, or perhaps this isn’t the first time the queen has had to deploy this tactic with Breyla.

“Now, General, please share with us what details you can. These developments are intriguing.” Breyla’s whole demeanor shifts when her mother addresses her this way. There seems to be an added tension between them.

“There is a member of the court with...questionable actions as of late. I can’t confirm or deny any connection to Nolan’s death, but it is enough for me to look into. I also have my suspicions that the servant we found in the river could be related to it all.” A pit forms in my stomach as I realize exactly who she’s referring to. I can’t exactly blame her for her suspicions, but I fear what this will mean for Layne and me if she is correct. History has shown us that people are anything but kind to families of traitors, no matter how innocent they may be.

I could recall an instance nearly eight hundred years ago. A heartbroken male named Myer had attempted to assassinate the entire ruling family. It was shortly after the Fae had disappeared from our lands, taking the male’s mate, a Fae female named Elythia, with them. While we could, and often did, form mate bonds, it was rumored that the bonds with the Fae were far stronger and granted special connections or powers. To lose a mate was thought to be impossible to survive.

Myer and Elythia had two small children, and she was carrying their third when she disappeared. Myer blamed the royal family for the Fae leaving and the loss of his mate. Myer wouldn’t live long enough to find out what it was like to live without his other half, and we have no idea whether he could have survived without her. He was successful in murdering King Grayson and Queen Amantia before the guards were able to subdue him. The three royal heirs survived, leaving Prince Ronan to ascend the throne at the age of fourteen.

Myer was executed the following morning, along with all members of his family—both parents, his siblings, and their families, and both his young children. Olivia and Finn were only two years old. In an instant, Myer’s entire line was wiped from existence. None of them knew what he planned, but it didn’t matter. The crown didn’t tolerate traitors or their families. It was a dark time in our history that most preferred to ignore.

Surely Breyla knew by now that I was loyal to her, but unease still rolled through me. I couldn’t bear the thought of Layne and I becoming the next history lesson.

“I am dispatching one of my most trusted soldiers to follow them, track who they are speaking with, and see if their actions prove traitorous or warrant an arrest. For now, we are just observing. I hope to have more clear information soon.” Breyla’s voice brought me out of my own head. I had almost forgotten we were in the middle of conversation.

Queen Genevieve looks as unsettled as I feel. “Very well, I pray to the gods you are wrong, and we are not fighting an enemy from within our own court. I trust your judgment, though. You will alert me as soon as you have any more information.” The queen pauses, before asking, “Why send your own and not the spymaster?”

Breyla wrinkles her nose and says softly, “I have my reasons, Mother. Most of them being Lord Craylor is vile and I do not trust him.”

“Your father trusted him.”

“Yes. And now Father is dead, so I doubt he has much to complain about now, anyway.” It is stated matter-of-factly, as if this is of little importance to her.

The queen’s face hardens, her eyes brimming with tears she refuses to let fall. “Indeed,” is all she manages, and the conversation ends.

The rest of the meal is uneventful and passes in silence. I find that as ravenous as I was to start, my stomach has gone sour.