Crowned in Crimson Cinders

Chapter 22: Brylee's Room

The quiet company of Darian was a comfort I hadn't realized I'd missed. With him, I felt a strange sense of safety, an almost impermeable shield against the world. He wouldn't let anything or anyone truly harm me. But the memory of my sharp words, my outburst in my chambers, still pricked at me. A wave of regret washed over me, heavy and unwelcome.

"Darian, about earlier..." I began, the words catching in my throat. "I'm truly sorry. For what I said. I was angry, and I... I lost control. I'm sorry I snapped."

A beat of silence stretched between us, the only sound the soft padding of our footsteps on the plush carpet. My heart hammered against my ribs, a desperate plea for his forgiveness echoing in the quiet.

"No," he finally said, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Don't be sorry. I understand your anger. I understand your need to prove yourself. To prove you can act on your own, without faltering."His insight was unnerving, yet strangely comforting. How did he see through me so clearly? He was right. I was desperate to prove something, not just to my family, but to myself. To shed the skin of the weak, pathetic girl Amora always claimed I was.

"Thank you," was all I could manage, the words barely a whisper. Mercifully, the rest of our journey unfolded in comfortable silence. With each step, the knot of tension between us seemed to unravel, dissipating into the tranquil air.

When we reached Brylee's chambers, Darian initially offered to wait outside her door. But a moment of reflection brought a practical concern—how would we explain his lingering presence if someone were to pass by? Instead, I simply instructed him to return in forty minutes or so. He conceded, though reluctantly, cautioning me about the dangers of being alone for such a long period. I insisted, my resolve firm.

I waited until Darian's silhouette vanished around the distant corner before I knowkced gently on the door. I questioned if this plan was worth it, but it was already too late to back out. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Brylee. The sight of her struck me speechless. Breya's death had etched itself onto her, a devastating tableau. Dark smudges bruised the delicate skin beneath her tired blue eyes. Her nightgown, creased and unkempt, looked as if it hadn't been shed since the previous night, or perhaps even longer.

It was then I truly realized how absent she had been since Breya's passing. Memories surfaced of the two of them always together, walking the halls, strolling through the gardens, seated side-by-side at every meeting. Brylee, usually the more reserved one, always found her laughter sparked only by Breya.

"Aleah?" she murmured, a flicker of surprise in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, um, I'm sorry," I stammered, regret already gnawing at me. "I should have waited. We can talk another time." I turned to leave, but her hand, surprisingly strong, shot out and gripped my wrist.

"No," she rasped, her voice rough, as if unused. "Please, don't leave. I rarely have visitors anymore."

I wasn't sure if I should feel relief or profound sadness for her. Regardless, I allowed her to draw me inside her room. She sank onto the edge of her bed, while I chose a chair in the corner, strategically close to the door. I don't know why I felt a need to select that spot.