Page 53 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Clay laughed softly, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, something that looked mysteriously like playfulness glinting in the depths of his golden flecked grey eyes.
“Are you –" I paused, struggling to find the words. “Are you teasing me?”
“I suppose. Although not in my preferred way.” He lifted a brow as his attention dropped to my lips for a moment before focusing in front of us once more.
There was something about him that seemed different. Maybe it was the light in his eyes, glowing from something other than anger, or the appearance of a dimple in his left cheek that I had somehow never noticed before. Perhaps it was even just the simple fact that his shoulders sat half an inch lower than they did normally. Truthfully, it waseverything.Everything seemed... lighter.
“You’re relaxed here,” I mused aloud.
He didn’t meet my gaze even as I felt like I couldn’t rip my eyes away from him. I so rarely got to see him like this. He never allowed himself to let his seriousness and strategical thinking slide away to just be a man, but when he did? Well, that was the version of him I liked best.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he commanded, his eyes still focused ahead.
Blushing furiously, I returned my gaze to Saharn’s back but my willpower only held out for a few minutes before I was tracing over his features again, memorizing every detail of him from his windblown hair to the shadow across his sharp jawline. Gods, he really was beautiful like this.There were only a few more moments that I’d be able to soak him in before we’d be separated and forced to play our roles again.
“Seriously,” he insisted, placing his hand on the small of my back to encourage me to keep walking even as my body slowed. “You cannot keep looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re not actually angry at me anymore.”
Finally, he met my gaze, and I nearly stumbled from the heat that lingered in his eyes. Heat that struck right through me, then slid down my spine at a torturously slow pace before settling right between my thighs. His eyes traveled my body, lingering over parts that should insult me but only made me feel even hotter.
Oh.
Is that how I had been looking at him?
I shook my head, as if I could shake myself loose of these feelings, and took a steadying breath to cool my overheated face. Right. Iwasangry at him. Ishouldbe angry with him.
But my anger was fading with every single day that passed while my logical mind reminded me that he hadn’t actually lied, that it was ignorant for me to not realize he would be forced to marry a Descendant of Zion, and that I was actually the one keeping much bigger secrets between us.
I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my skin to stop myself from overthinking as I stared down at the floor in front of us. The floor was safe. When I looked at the tiled floor, all I could see of him was his boots. Boots were safe to look at.
Even if those boots were attached to thick muscular legs, wrapped tight in leather that hugged every part of his body, even his -
“Yes, I’m relaxed here,” Clay admitted, pulling me out of a very dangerous thought spiral. “I’m not the heir apparent here. Obviously my everymove still matters, and has implications for our people, but at least I don’t feel like my every move is being watched and reported back to my father.”
I thought over his words, feeling my own shoulders loosen as they settled. Yes, I suppose not having to deal with the Dragon was one very nice benefit of this trip.
“Now pay attention,” he instructed, dropping his hand from my back and pointing instead towards Saharn.
“The Monarchs have reserved this hall for their guests,” she said. “We’ve prepared this room for you, Lady Moore.”
She handed me a small bronze key on a silver string, then gave a matching one to Nessira. “Your ladies will stay here.” She gestured to the door beside mine. “There is an adjoining door inside. Prince Vail, we’re preparing accommodations in the royal wing more suited to your station.”
My jaw tightened, irritation bubbling under my skin. They were so desperate to claim my offspring but treated me as so much lower on the ladder of authority that I couldn’t even stay in the same wing as the Descendants of Zion.
Clay glanced down the hallway. “Surely there’s another room in this hall?”
Saharn blinked, startled. “Prince Vail, I assure you the royal wing is far more suitable. The rooms are—”
“This trip is for Councilwoman Moore,” Clay interrupted, his tone firm and words purposeful. Not Lady Moore - Councilwoman Moore. It might not earn the same respect in this country, but it meant something in mine. “She is second only to the Dragon of Athenia. I’m confident that whatever room you deemed appropriate for her will suit me as well.”
I stared at the floor, biting back a grin as warmth spread through my chest. Saharn sputtered, then bowed her head and stepped back.
“Will you-” Her voice was timid as she glanced rapidly between the two of us. “Will you need a chaperone for the evening?”
Clay’s laugh was congenial, but I detected a level of amusement lying underneath it. “Do Tenebrisian customs typically require chaperones?”
