Page 137 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Maybe that was a small mercy.
Death would be easier than knowing she was trapped here with him, that I had no way to save her.
I had failed her.
She was my Goddess, my heart, my very soul placed into another being—and I had absolutely failed her. I had left her alone in a den of vipers.
“Clay,” Iris pressed, her voice trembling. “We have to do something.”
“There’s nothing to be done,” I croaked, my voice raw and hollow.
The door at the end of the hall slammed open, the clash of swords and the sharp stomp of boots echoing through the dungeon. Iris and Rankor leapt to their feet, moving protectively in front of where Kent lay, his hands clutching the wound in his gut.
Then Caldrius stepped into view.
He still wore his wedding regalia, the black and gold gleaming mockingly in the torchlight. He looked comfortable in it. Like he’d been wearing a crown his whole life, just waiting to reclaim it.
His calculating gaze swept over me, lingering with the satisfaction of someone who had already won.
“Get up,” he barked.
“Fuck off,” I replied, arching an eyebrow.
The bastard didn’t have any magic—I’d realized it during the ceremony. He’d relied on Hyrax’s shadows to lock the clasps around Thea’s wrists rather than using his own Dragonfire. Death had taken his power.
So if he wanted me to stand, he’d have to come in here and make me.
He laughed, low and full of superiority. “She’ll be so disappointed when I return to our bed this evening and tell her how you behaved.”
I was on my feet in an instant, rushing toward the glass panel separating us, venom surging through my veins. “Stay away from her.”
He smirked, unbothered. “I couldn’t possibly stay away from my wife.”
The word twisted like a knife in my chest. My fingers curled into fists, fiery rage poisoning what little rationality I had left.
If these damned cells weren’t so secure, I’d have thrown myself at him, hands wrapped around his throat.
“Why are you here?” Iris demanded, her voice sharp and unwavering.
Caldrius barely spared her a glance before turning back to me.
“I’m here to help you escape.”
I stilled, every nerve in my body coiling.
“Why?” The question came out low and dangerous.
“A wedding present for my wife.”
Each word was another blow to my battered soul, twisting deeper with every syllable.
From the look in his eyes, he knew exactly what it was doing to me to hear her referenced as his wife.
“You’re aware of the tunnels?” he asked, ignoring my glare.
Of course, I knew about the tunnels. It was my castle. Ennoss, Caldrius’ brother and the first King of Athenia, had designed those escape routes centuries ago in case Caldrius ever returned to attack.
Now Caldrius had finally returned, and I was the one fleeing him.
