Page 62 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
He didn’t hesitate. “What’s your favorite food?”
Of all the questions he could have asked, that was not one I’d expected. It was hardly prying or invasive. Wasn’t the point of this game to dig for truths?
“That’syour question?” I asked, incredulous.
He shrugged. “I don’t know the answer, and I want to.”
I eyed him suspiciously, but answered. “The little chocolate tarts from the kitchens that are usually reserved for your father.”
His eyes widened. Those tarts were infamously the Dragon’s favorite dessert, and he’d made it clear they were to be prepared only for him.
Those tarts were guarded like they were the finest jewels in the kingdom.
Except the kitchen boy had a crush on Nessira and would give her the shirt off his back if she asked for it.
“How do you manage to get them? I can’t even get my hands on those!”
I grinned triumphantly. “That’s another question.”
Clay laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender before taking the bottle from me and gesturing for my turn.
“What do you do for fun?” I asked.
A furious blush spread across his cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I enjoy mystery stories. Heroes seeking justice and all that.”
I’d known that—seen the novels in his room last year—but there was something endearing about hearing him admit it aloud. It was nice seeing Clay as himself.
“What doyoulike to do for fun?” he countered.
Frowning, I leaned my head back against the bed. “I haven’t had much time for fun over the past year,” I admitted.
“When you have?”
“I liked when we went riding before you took me to Hyrax Estate.”
Clay laughed, his gaze distant with the memory a smile lingering on his lips. “I don’t think Netta enjoyed it as much as you did.”
Several months ago, he’d been the one to first escort me to my ancestral home. We’d raced our horses to get there, and though I’d clearly won, he’d insisted I cheated when my powers accidentally lifted my horse, Netta, into the air. Perhaps it hadn’t been my best display of sportsmanship.
I considered my next question. “Do you want to be king?”
Clay tilted his head, as though the question had caught him off guard. He pulled the bottle to his mouth, drinking deeply before answering.
“Truthfully, yes. It’s probably more diplomatic to say something about hating the role and only wanting to serve the people, but I was bred and raised to wear that crown. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known. I’ve worked hard to prepare myself to be a good king. I care about my people—about keeping them safe and fed. As the Dragon, I’ll be able to make sure they’retaken care of. There are things I’d like to change one day, things I want to revolutionize.”
“What things?” I interrupted.
“That’s another question,” he teased, raising a brow at me. “It’s my turn now. What’s your favorite color?”
“Orange,” I answered quickly, again puzzled by his choice of a rather simple question.
But as I prepared to continue my previous line of questioning, another thought surfaced. “Last year, you told me the story of Caldrius stealing the Bident of Hyrax for Zeus before the Gods raised the Veil.”
He furrowed his brow. “Yes?”
“What happened to him after? Did he have a family - a wife?”
Clay passed the bottle to me and leaned back against the couch, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankle. “What made you think about that?”
