Page 135 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
The woman who stared back at me in the looking glass was unrecognizable. Her hair was twisted neatly away from her face, but no amount of effort could mask the dark, sleepless shadows framing her blue eyes. The bruises were gone, but the scars—oh, the very many scars—they lingered, silent witnesses to everything I’d lost in just a week.
Even the gown I wore felt wrong. The soft white fabric, cinched at the waist and draped off my shoulders, might have been beautiful on me at one time. Now it only clung to me like a shroud. It wasn’t the gown I’d imagined wearing on my wedding day. Then again, nothing about this was what I’d imagined. Nothing about this was supposed to be.
The guards arrived without ceremony, their gazes fixed firmly ahead as they led me down the hall. Their silence was unbearable.
Someone had attempted to clean the halls while I’d slept. The bodies had been removed and most of the blood washed away, but the stains on the floor remained. This marble would never look as crisp and pristine as it once had. My throat tightened with each step as the memories clawed at me—Pasnia’s suffocating grip, the agony, the devastation.
The ballroom doors loomed ahead, creaking open with an ominous groan. My breath hitched as Caldrius greeted me. Dressed in a black jacket embroidered with golden thread, he looked every inch a king already. The sight made my stomach churn a little.
He stepped forward, his gaze steady as he dismissed the guards with a sharp flick of his hand.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low, unreadable.
“I’ll never be ready for this,” I said, forcing the words through the lump in my throat.
He sighed heavily, studying me. “Well, this is your last chance to back out.”
I almost laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that never made it past my lips. Back out? We were so far past that point itwas laughable.
“Let’s go,” I said, stepping past him.
His hand snapped out, fingers wrapping around my wrist. A soft click echoed through the air. I glanced down to see the silver chain gleaming against my skin, cold and final.
“I may be loyal to Hyrax,” Caldrius said, his voice like velvet, “but there are still traditions of my house I will honor. This is one of them.”
I stared at the chain, its meaning sinking into me like a stone. It wasn’t just an accessory. It was a mark of permanence. A claim. This chain would stay on my wrist for the rest of my life, a physical reminder that I belonged to him now.
He tucked my hand into his arm and led me into the ballroom.
The room was still a disaster. Shards of glass littered the floor, and servants scrambled to drape flowers over the wreckage in a desperate attempt to make the space look worthy of a wedding. It didn’t work to wash away the shroud of bleakness that lingered in the room. The destruction was too deep, too raw.
At the far end of the space, Hyrax sat on his shadowy throne, his expression unreadable. The obsidian crown atop his head gleamed in the torchlight, a stark reminder of the power he wielded.
And there they were—Clay, Rankor, and Iris.
My steps faltered as my gaze locked onto them, kneeling at the base of the throne with their hands bound. Bruised but alive. My chest tightened painfully, and my breath hitched. Clay’s golden eyes burned into me, flicking briefly to the chain on my wrist before returning to mine. The disbelief in his gaze cut deeper than any blade ever could.
“What are they doing here?” I hissed, gripping Caldrius’ arm with enough force to make my nails dig into his skin.
He cleared his throat softly, his expression carefully neutral. “Hyrax wanted them to watch.”
The words hit me like a blow, cold and unrelenting. I dragged my gaze back to Clay, willing him to understand, to see through the charade.
Hyrax rose from his throne, his booming voice filling the room. “Look at you two. It brings me such joy to see my family together. Finally.”
Family. The word tasted like ash on my tongue.
“Let’s begin,” he said, stepping forward.
Caldrius took my hand, raising it between us. Hyrax moved closer, binding our wrists together with a coiled rope that pulsed faintly with magic.
“With this rope, I bind you,” Hyrax intoned, his voice heavy with power.
Caldrius’ gaze met mine, steady and unyielding. “For eternity, I accept this bond.”
All eyes turned to me. I could feel their stares—the hope, the anger, the heartbreak. They bore into me like a thousand knives.
I looked at Clay, my beautiful dragon prince. His golden eyes shimmered with devastation, mirroring the ache tearing through my soul.
