Page 108 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
“Pasnia’s in the Mortal Realm?” Hyrax’s voice was barely a whisper, his sharp gaze cutting through the chaos.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My tears blurred my vision as I summoned a portal, the golden thread blazing to life before me.
Without another word, I stepped through, leaving their lies and betrayal behind.
Chapter Thirty One
Istepped into my bedroom, desperate for Clay, the words pouring out of me as easily as the tears streaking down my cheeks.
“It’s true,” I choked, my voice trembling. “I mean, I think somehow I knew it was true, but hearing him confirm it was—was something else entirely. He created me out of the bones of Eckna, Clay. The fucking monster that Ciclopia created.”
I stopped short. Clay hadn’t turned to me. He hadn’t even acknowledged my presence. He stood across the room by the windows, where the faint starlight caught the shimmering golden scales crawling over his back and shoulders. His claws, long and black as obsidian, flipped through one of the discarded books I’d left on my desk.
“Clay?” I whispered, taking a tentative step closer, unsure if I was speaking to my lover or the dragon within him.
When he finally turned, the breath left my lungs. Veins along his neck pulsed with inky blackness, his face framed by scales that glinted in the dim light. His eyes, glowing gold and slitted, bore into me with a predatory intensity that made my knees weaken.
“What happened?” I asked, fear knotting my stomach.
He lifted a page that had I had tucked inside the book and held it up between us. It trembled in his clawed hand as he stepped toward me, his voice a low, guttural growl. “What is this?”
It was a sketch—my sketch.
I felt the blood drained from my face. The likeness was unmistakable: Caldrius, his sharp features rendered with meticulous precision. The waves of his dark hair, the commanding set of his jaw, the piercing intensity of his eyes. Looking at Clay holding it, it was impossible to deny the family resemblance, no matter how far removed they were. They had the same arched brows. The same pointed jawline.
“I can explain,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Please do.” His tone was a venomous lash. He held the sketch higher, shaking it as he stepped closer, heat radiating off him. “Explain to me how you managed to create a perfect drawing of a man whose image has been erased from existence. The only images of Caldrius are locked in the Zion Archives—images I’ve only seen once in my entire life. So tell me, Thea. How can you explain this?”
The words clogged my throat, too heavy to admit.
“I’ve… met him,” I finally admitted, each word sinking like a stone in the air. “In the Underworld.”
Clay recoiled. His hand trembled, crushing the paper between his claws. “You’ve what?”
“I’ve met him,” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Shortly after I realized it was the Underworld, Hyrax introduced us. Caldrius is his second in command.”
“And you what? Spend time with him?”
I chewed on my lip, unease curling in my stomach. “He’s helped answer questions for me. He helped me find the bangle I used to free Camilla.”
He turned away, his shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths. “After everything we’ve been through,” he said, his voice low, barely restrained, “after last night, why keepthisfrom me?”
The truth tangled in my throat. I’d wanted to tell him, intended to tell him—but I hadn’t, and I wasn’t entirely sure why I had left Caldrius out of the story when I started telling Clay the truth.
Maybe I’d feared this exact moment, this exact reaction. Or maybe I hadn’t wanted to admit that I’d trusted Caldrius. That I’d seen a side of him that history had erased.
“I don’t know,” I confessed, my voice a broken whisper.
“Is he...” His voice trailed off as he turned back to me, claws flexing, while he considered his next words. “Do you have feelings for him?
The question hit me like a slap. “No! Gods, no.”
He scoffed, bitterness twisting his lips. “Is that such an outrageous question? You went to him for answers, Thea. Confided in him long before you were ever forced to be honest with me.”
I went to him, grasping his hands despite the heat of his skin. “Yes, it is a ridiculous question! I loveyou, Clayton. Only you. It’s only ever been you.”
I stressed each word, needing him to hear them, to memorize them, to feel the truth of them in his bones.
