Page 29 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
“How long will the fever last?” Rankor asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Hopefully it’ll break overnight. Try to get some more rest, my lady.”
Rest was the last thing I wanted after two days of unconsciousness. What I really wanted, what I needed, was some roasted meat, peppered broth, and those little chocolates from the palace kitchen. My mouth positively watered at the thought, but the exhaustion weighing down my limbs kept me pinned to the bed.
The nurse left me with strict instructions to drink the tonic she’d prepared and offered Rankor a warm smile before departing. I let my head fall back against the pillows as she left, my eyes drifting closed despite my restless mind.
The brief reprieve didn’t last long.
“Your Grace!” I heard the nurse cry out. “You startled me. I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”
Rankor was out of his chair in an instant, nearly barreling into the nurse as he moved from my bedchamber into the parlor to block the doorway into the suite.
“Don’t you have other matters to attend to,Your Grace?” Rankor asked, his voice sharp and uncharacteristically hostile.
“I’m not here to argue with you,” Clay said, his voice trembling slightly. “I just need to see her. Please.”
I could almost feel his concern, a palpable force radiating through the air.
“She should rest,” Rankor insisted. “Why don’t you go attend to all yourprincely responsibilitiesand wait to see her at tomorrow’s Ascension with everyone else?”
Tomorrow. The word sent a wave of anticipation—and dread—crashing through me. After a year of preparation, my trials were over, and I was set to ascend to the Council tomorrow.
“It’s okay,” I called, struggling to stand.
The room fell silent as the two men turned toward me, their chests high. Rankor’s face was a mask of fury, while Clay, with his overgrown hair and the shadow of a beard darkening his jawline, looked utterly ragged. Without a word, Rankor shoved past him, knocking his shoulder hard, before he slammed the door behind him.
“What’s gotten into him?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
Clay didn’t answer. His eyes roved over me, and a new kind of tension settled into the room.
“You wore that in front of him?” Clay’s voice was low, his eyes sparking gold with intensity.
It was only then I realized how I looked. My fever had left me unbearably hot, and at some point, I’d stripped off my tunic and pants, leaving me innothing but a thin white shift that barely grazed the tops of my thighs. My braided hair exposed my collarbone, and a rosy hue flushed my skin.
Clay’s gaze lingered on the exposed skin of my legs, the anger in his expression shifting into something far more complicated. Jealousy was there, and concern, but beneath it all was fear.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
I took a step toward him, but my legs wobbled, and he was at my side in an instant, catching me before I could fall.
“Gods, Thea,” he breathed, his grip firm and steady. “You scared me out there.”
“I was a bit scared too,” I admitted, breathlessly. “But I’m fine. It’s just a little fever.”
His hand moved to cup my face and slowly his thumb trailed over my bruised lower lip, pulling down the flesh slightly to examine where I had bitten into it during the trial. His eyes darkened and concern flashed on his features as he did, but the touch was so intimate, so sensual, that I nearly swayed for an entirely different reason.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I murmured.
His eyes closed, and he rested his forehead against mine. “Don’t make me leave. I just—I just need to hold you for a minute. Please.”
My stupid heart wrenched, wanting things it couldn’t have. My trials were over. I would be engaged in a matter of days, married to another man in just a few weeks. I shouldn’t be alone in my bedroom pressed against the Crown Prince.
And yet, there was something about the lingering terror in his eyes and the way he said please that made all my restraint shatter around me.
“I’m okay,” I whispered again, needing him to believe it.
His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest. He buried his face in my neck, breathing me in, holding me as though I might vanish. His grip was tight, almost desperate.
