Page 80 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
I frowned. “When the time comes?”
His eyes flicked toward my wrist. “No engagement party. No chain. We’re not locked into this quite yet. I know what your Dragon has ordered, but if you need time to decide if you can accept that, we wait.”
I only wished it were that simple.
He wasn’t from Athenia. He didn’t know that when the Dragon commanded something, there was no turning him down.
“What now?” I asked softly, pulling at my fingers in my lap.
“You go home,” he said. “And we give it that time. When you’re ready, if you’re ready, you send for me, and I’ll come.”
“You cannot be serious!” I screeched, barely recognizing the frantic, high-pitched sound as my own voice.
Clay had arrived in my rooms at dawn, all but dragging me from bed. He’d demanded I dress in leathers and leave with him immediately, offering no explanation beyond “Trust me.” Now, after hours of climbing sand dunes under a merciless sun, here I stood, sweat pooling under my too-warm jacket, as he declared the most absurd plan imaginable.
And there he was—smirking over his shoulder, pulling off his shirt like this was the most reasonable thing in all of creation.
“I would never kid about this,princess.”
For a heartbeat, my brain stalled as I stared at him. He was tanned and carved like something out of legend, every muscle a testament to his years of training. And there, just barely visible above the low-cut edge of his trousers, curled the Mark of Zion—the tip of a Dragon, its head dark and ornate.
“Were you finished with the conversation?“ Clay asked with the arch of a smug brow. “I expected a little more attitude.”
I snapped my mouth shut, mortified at my staring.
“No!” I crossed my arms over my chest, forcing my gaze firmly above his neck. “I amnotdoing this.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Clayton, bepractical.”
“Theadora, Iam.” He turned then, his voice tight with exasperation, but something beneath it—stress, maybe even concern—made me pause. “We need to get home. If Hyrax is after the Sword of Zion, we can’t waste a fortnight on a ship.”
“And why can’tyougo home and let me meet you there?”
The look he gave me could have turned a man to stone. “I’m not leaving you alone in a foreign country, Thea.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. We’d already been at this for too long, and I’d yet to come up with a valid excuse to sway him. Desperation clawed at me. “Well... what about Nessira?”
Even I heard how whiny I sounded.
Clay raised a brow, crossing his thick arms over his bare chest to mirror my stance. “Nessira and Samsa will both be on a ship tonight back to Athenia. I can’t carry all three of you.”
“I amnotgoing to ride you, Clayton!”
My cheeks flushed red at the sound of my own words, and Clay’s eyes darkened as they traced down my body. Slowly, he stepped toward me,every inch of him humming with a predatory calm that made my heart flutter. His heat flushed over me.
“I am your Crown Prince,” he reminded me softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It is my God-given responsibility to ensure your safety. And right now, I need to return to my kingdom. There is no way in all of creation I’m leaving you behind. So yes, Theadora, I am going to shift into my Dragon form, and you are going to use those very special powers of yours to stay seated on my back the entire flight home.”
“This isridiculous,” I whispered, though my voice lacked conviction.
“This, princess, is the first time I’ve ever let anyone do this.” He stepped back a pace, smirking again as he reached for the laces of his trousers. “But for you, Thea, consider riding me a standing offer.”
I yelped and spun around, clapping my hands over my blazing face as his low laughter rolled behind me. “You areinsufferable!”
The air shifted—warm and heavy—followed by a low rumble that shook the sand beneath my boots. I turned cautiously and nearly staggered back. Where Clay had stood moments before, a golden dragon now loomed, scales shimmering like liquid sunlight. He watched me with slitted, impatient eyes, his head level with my shoulders, as if to saywell?
“I hate you for this,” I muttered as I trudged past him to grab the pack.
