Page 7 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Clay and I were back in the same room together as friends, nothing more or less.
And Iris was here, squeezing my hand.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like things might be okay.
Once Emeryn realized the Prince had finally joined the party, she fluttered to my side again, declaring that several wealthy merchants were eager to meet the young prince and future Council member. Something about us being the ‘future of Athenia.’
The way she linked Clay and me together in that phrase made my skin crawl slightly, but I knew better than to challenge her. So, after inviting Iris to join me for breakfast in the morning, I let Emeryn lead us around the room and began mingling and networking as she instructed.
Throughout it all, Clay was the perfect prince—friendly and gracious. He took charge of most conversations, which suited me just fine. As the night wore on, though, I couldn’t ignore how sparse our exchanges were with each other. We moved from merchant to diplomat to courts person, and all the while, he barely acknowledged me, not even on the occasions when I did make small comments to contribute to the conversation.
Until, all too suddenly, he decided he wanted to speak to me.
All night, he must have been waiting for a chance to get me alone, and when the merchant we were talking to excused himself and Emeryn wasbriefly pulled away, he had it.
The next thing I knew, Clay’s hand gripped mine, and he began tugging me out of the ballroom. I gasped as he pulled me along, his speed not leaving me any chance to protest.
“Come,” he commanded, with a finality that had me tripping over my skirts as he hauled me into a dim, private office and shut the door.
The space was nearly bare—a large oak desk with dragon carvings along the legs, stacks of paper on one side, books, a quill, and a wax seal on the other. A settee beneath the window held a discarded cotton shirt and leather trousers. I didn’t need to look around to know it was Clay’s office.
The scent of cinnamon and ash was a dead giveaway.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I muttered, smoothing my wrinkled skirts before folding my arms across my chest as he quickly rummaged through a drawer.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled out a decanter of whiskey and drank deeply. His silence stretched, heavy with tension. I could feel the weight of his stare as he studied me, waiting for me to crack. When I didn’t, he exhaled sharply and set the decanter down with a dullthud.
“I want to know what’s wrong with you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“I’m not the one who dragged you away from a party to ask vague questions!”
He raised an eyebrow, giving me that familiar, irritating look that always lit my blood on fire with both fury and something else I’d rather leave unnamed. “Dimitri tells me you’ve been spending more nights at Hyrax Estate than in your suite at the palace.”
Of course I had. I was studying Hyrax and my family’s history. I was avoiding sleep by doing anything I could to identify what Hyrax wanted from me. I couldn’t very well say any of that to Clay, though. So, I justshrugged. “Didn’t know there was a problem with me staying in my own home.”
He had been the first one to show me Hyrax Estate, the sprawling gothic mansion south of the palace. As the last descendant of Hyrax, the property was mine, along with the archives inside it, a collection of family heirlooms, and Hyrax’s Bident—a weapon made from the bones of some ancient beast.
“And Rankor tells me you haven’t been sleeping,” he continued.
I was going to have to speak to him and Dimitri both about keeping their observations to themselves. “I don’t see how that’s anyone’s business but my own.”
Clay’s expression softened, his voice dropping. “I’m serious, Thea.”
His eyes held that rare look of concern—the one that wasn’t from the prince, but the man behind him. The man who cared about me, perhaps too much.
I knew I should pull away, to harden myself against him, but part of me didn’t want to.
“As am I,” I replied, my voice sharp.
Clay sighed and stepped forward, close enough that I felt the heat of his anger mixed with something more. I could feel my pulse quicken, half of me wanting to retreat, the other half desperately wanting to close the space between us.
“Do you think I’m not acutely aware of you?” he murmured, his voice low. “What you pulled in the arena today was reckless, lazy even. I’ve seen you fight in far worse conditions, and you were brilliant then. Natural. But today? Crawling on the ground, running from attackers? You’re avoiding the castle, avoiding Iris, avoiding me. You’re not sleeping and you’re not talking. I want to know why. I want to know what you’ve been keeping from me.”
A shiver passed through me, betraying the effect he had on me. But I couldn’t afford to let my walls crumble. If Clay knew the truth, it wouldn’t be long before his father knew. And if the Dragon knew, I’d be as good as dead.
