Page 127 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses

The moon had risen high, and I’d finally begun to doze off in my chair when the soft creak of my door opening brought me awake suddenly.

Callan stood in the doorway, his usually confident stance faltering. Some hidden part of me deflated at realizing it wasn’t Rydian—but I shoved it away. Instead, I focused on the male I considered my true enemy now. His amber eyes, normally sharp and full of calculated intent, were glassy and bloodshot. He reeked of blue vervain.

“Callan?” I asked, taking in the disheveled state of him.

His russet jacket hung loosely like he’d pulled it on in haste, and his hair was messier than I’d ever seen. But the worst was the black eye, an ugly bruise forming beneath the skin along the tip of his cheekbone. A cut ran below it, the blood dried but not tended.

I stood, gaping. “What happened to you?”

He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as if gathering himself before pushing off and walking toward me. “It’s nothing.” His voice was hoarse, heavy. “Just… my father being my father.”

“Duron did this?”

Callan chuckled darkly, rubbing a hand across his face. “When things go wrong, I’m always the one who takes the blame.”

“Why would he hurt you like this?”

And where was Rydian? Was he hurt too?

“Come here.” Rather than give me an answer, he closed the distance and tugged me into his arms. I stiffened but didn’t pull away. He didn’t deserve my comfort, and yet I knew whatever he’d become, his father had been the one to make him this way.

Finally, he stepped back and gazed down at me, brushing my cheek with his fingers. “You are so beautiful.” His breath hit me—the scent of alcohol so strong I nearly choked on it.

“You’re drunk,” I said with disgust. And high. But it wasn’t the first time for that.

He grinned. “Yeah.”

I shook my head, but he caught my chin with his fingers and held my gaze. “So fucking beautiful,” he said again. Then he brushed his lips over mine.

I shoved him off me, glaring.

But Callan didn’t seem to notice or care about my reaction.

He turned almost sullen. “My father—he said I should’veknown Obsidians would get in. Should’ve fortified our defenses better.”

“How could you have known?”

“I’m the general, remember?” He sounded bitter. Resentful. “The great and victorious commander of Autumn.” He snorted. “The people would love to know it was Rydian’s strategy and my face on it that won us Staghall.”

I stared at him, only surprised that he’d said it out loud.

“Does your father know Rydian’s the strategist?” I asked carefully.

“Of course he does. Why do you think he’s so angry all the time? His bastard son is the brainsandthe brawn in the family. And what am I beyond a punching bag or an errand boy?” He shook his head. “His temper’s never good when I—when something like this happens. But with the engagement party coming up, it’s even worse. He wants everything perfect, everything under control, and he blames me when it’s not.”

“He called for Rydian too. Is he okay?”

Callan’s eyes narrowed. “He’ll live to see another day.” He pinned me with a look that was suddenly much sharper than it had been. “You seem awfully concerned with the brother who isn’t your fiancé. Any particular reason?”

“He saved my life once,” I reminded him.

“You’re marryingme, Aurelia.” He took a step forward so suddenly that I took one back. “Not him. Worry for me. Care about me.”

“Callan, you’re not yourself.”

“You think I don’t see how you look at him?” I remained silent, but his eyes flashed with fury. “Rydian’s a bastard son. He’s nothing to this kingdom. A soldier. A weapon to wield. And he always will be. Remember that.”

A weapon to wield.

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