Page 48 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
“You said that yesterday, Cerl.”
“And I might say it again tomorrow at this rate.” He grinned toothily.
I wanted to respond, but the boat rocked once more, and I flopped my head heavily over the side again. This torment might actually be worse than Camilla’s shadow monsters nipping at my skin.
“Thea.” Clay’s voice sounded from behind me. “Come.”
Not a request from a friend.
An order from a Prince.
One I couldn’t feasibly say no to.
Nessira’s stomach had turned out to be just as weak as mine, so she hadn’t been able to help steer him away from me after all. I’d avoided him for most of the trip through an array of excuses, ranging from needing to relieve myself to a sudden fascination with the mechanics of ocean navigation. And the only good thing about my raging nausea was that it had kept most people away from me, including the prince.
Until now.
“No,” I groaned, unable to collect my thoughts enough to think of a new reason to escape his presence.
“Now.”
Once my stomach had settled, I was going to give him a piece of my mind. If it ever settled, that is.
Pulling myself off the rail, I followed him downstairs to the chamber he’d been occupying during the journey. It was a small space with a simple single-person bed and a tiny wooden desk cluttered with open books and notes.
Clay avoided my gaze as he shut the door and locked us into the tight, damp space. He was in a vicious mood. He radiated irritation, and I had no doubt that he was angry with me for having stopped talking to him. Did he really expect us to proceed as we had been, though?
Did he expect me to carry on treating him as my friend even though every time I looked at him I pictured another woman’s hand in his?
He went straight to the desk, gathering the parchments and tossing them into his trunk in exchange for a single candle. Without a word, he exhaled a quick burst of dragon fire, igniting the wick so that its flame flickered dimly between us.
“Make it float,” he instructed, holding it in the air between us.
For a moment, I was back on that terrace with him.
He held the rose out to me, flat on his palm between us. A thornless rose, pulled from the shadows and held between a Descendant of Zion and a Descendant of Hyrax.
“What were you feeling?” he asked.
“Afraid,” I whispered, acutely aware that even though I was alone with the Crown Prince—a man who had been nothing but ill-tempered with me—I didn’t feel afraid anymore.
I shook my head violently to clear the memory away. “Clay—”
“Just trust me, Thea.”
I glared at him. My trust was something he had lost the second Elaina answered his door.
He sighed and threw back his head, as if realizing how disastrous his own words were the second they left his mouth. “Please.”
Gods.
My wretched heart had the audacity to flip when he said “please,” as if it refused to understand reason. Although, it always had refused reason when it came to him. I’d fallen for Clay even though I knew it was wrong, even though we both knew it was wrong, and now my cursed heart was going to have to deal with the pain that came with that recklessness.
Wordlessly, I lifted my hand, grasping the candle magically and holding it steady in the air.
“Good.” He moved to stand behind me.
Too close behind me.
