Page 84 of The Sorrow of Shadows

“Are you telling me nobody knows?”

“Not many.”

“Not many?” His voice trails off, as if in deep thought, before he asks, “Elijah knows, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because it’s impossible to keep anything a secret from him. I don’t even try anymore.” I yawn, thoroughly spent by our late-morning escapades.

“Noted.”

We lay there for a while more, him telling me more stories of my dad, me just listening. Eventually, I doze off to the sound of his heartbeat.

CHAPTER THIRTY

AURELIUS

We spend most of the afternoon touching, reminiscing, and falling in and out of sleep in my hidden oasis. I could spend all day wrapped up in Breyla’s arms, but I know we’re here for more than that.

It’s approaching dinnertime when we finally make it back to the estate. I had to carry Breyla on my back since her feet were raw and blistered from walking out here barefoot. I wrapped her feet in thick wool socks to cushion them and lessen the discomfort while her body worked to heal the blisters and cuts. We ate a quiet dinner of lamb stew with my parents, and now sit around the parlor table playing cards.

Either my mother or Breyla has won every damn hand. It’s honestly too much of a coincidence, and it’s starting to piss me off. It’s statistically improbable that they would win every. Single. Hand. I’m starting to wonder if Breyla gets her card-playing skills from my mother.

When Breyla lays down a pair of kings and three aces, winning yet again, I call bullshit.

“There is absolutely no way you won again. You are obviously cheating, and I’m pretty sure you got that skill from my mother.” I dart glares at them both.

“Nonsense, dear. I play by the rules, just as everyone else does. I can’t help it if you and your father aren’t as good as us ladies.” My mom shrugs in an all-too-innocent gesture.

Breyla just laughs at my expense and agrees with mother, “What’s wrong, Aurelius? Are you jealous you can’t win against a couple of females? Can your fragile male ego not handle losing?”

“My male ego is anything but fragile, Princess,” I snap back. “But you forget one thing.”

“And what is that?” she challenges.

“I can tell when you’re lying, and you both reek of deception right now.”

At this, my father lets out a full belly laugh, throwing his head back.

“Thank the gods for you, son. I’ve been waiting for someone to call your mother out on her cheating for years now!”

“Mallum!” Mother cries in outrage. “I do not cheat!”

“Stop lying, Mother. You’re fooling no one. You obviously passed that trait on to Breyla,” I say, side eyeing the guilty princess.

“If you want to be accurate, I learned my card-playingskillsfrom Father,” Breyla declares as if she’s proud of the fact that her father taught her how to cheat at cards.

“And let me guess, Raynor learned to play from you?” I accuse my mother.

She shrugs as if to say yes but doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

I collect the cards from them all and throw them aside. “Enough of this. We’re playing a game you two can’t cheat at.”

They both huff and fold their arms across their chests. It’s cute to see Breyla sitting there, looking like the younger versionof mother. Her auburn hair is just a shade off from my mother’s fire-red, same freckles, and annoyed look in their eyes. Mom’s are hazel, but flecked with the same emerald green that fills Breyla’s irises.

Raynor looked like the male version of Mom, taking on very few features from our father but all his personality. He was stoic for the most part but absolutely fierce if provoked, loyal beyond belief, and selfless. I was always the black sheep of the family, quite literally. My dark curls, tanned complexion, and odd crimson-flecked irises always stood out against the fair quality of their features. It was always obvious I was adopted—my parents never tried to hide it—but they loved me all the same.

---