Page 39 of The Sorrow of Shadows

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 schemingwithPrince 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 expensivewines, 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 regardlessof 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.

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