Page 91 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
But now? Now he didn’t even need to know why. He was willing to do whatever I needed without a single question.
And I was about to ask for far more than he would ever expect.
“Not yours,” I whispered, the words barely audible as they left my lips.
His frown deepened, confusion flickering across his face. But before he could speak, a soft rustling came from the doorway behind him.
Elaina emerged from the bedroom, tying the sash of a golden robe around her waist. Her honey-brown hair spilled over her shoulder in a loose braid, her face free of any cosmetics, effortlessly radiant in the dim morning light. She moved with ease, the casual confidence of someone who was entirely comfortable in Clay’s personal space.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her tone mild as her gaze shifted between us.
My stomach twisted. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I met her eyes—the woman set to marry the man I loved—and the weight of it all hit me like a physical blow.
I hated her.
I hated the way she looked so effortlessly beautiful, so composed. The way she fit seamlessly into his life, into his room, as if she belonged there. The way she was the one standing beside him in the quiet hours of the morning, while I stood here covered in blood and secrets.
She was his queen. I was an unwelcome intrusion.
I hated everything about her.
But I forced myself to swallow it—all of it. Every shard of pride, each razor-edged fragment of bitterness and jealousy that threatened to tear me apart from the inside. I buried it deep, letting the hatred twist and knot in the pit of my stomach, where it could fester unseen.
Because this wasn’t about me. Not right now.
“I needherhelp,” I said finally, my voice flat, the words scraping against my pride like sandpaper.
Elaina blinked, startled by the request. Clay’s confusion shifted to something sharper, his eyes narrowing as he looked between us.
It didn’t matter. There was no time for explanations. No time for the tangled mess of emotions swirling beneath the surface.
Camilla was dying. And Elaina had trained with healers.
Camilla had spent a year trying everything in her power to end my life, and now I was willing to risk everything to save hers. Even if it meant asking for help from the woman who had everything I wanted.
Chapter Twenty Six
To her credit, Elaina didn’t ask any of the questions that were clearly burning in her mind when we burst into Hyrax Manor and I pointed her towards Camilla’s slumped body in the parlour. She simply grabbed her bag of medical tools and set to work.
“You’re lucky you came to me when you did,” she muttered, inspecting the angry gash along Camilla’s ribs. Her brow furrowed as she leaned in closer, the firelight casting sharp shadows across her face. “The infection has already spread too much.”
“But you can help her, can’t you?” My voice barely rose above a whisper, tinged with desperation I couldn’t hide.
Elaina glanced over her shoulder, her expression grim as she sliced a blade cleanly across the scabbed wound, blood welling up instantly. She quickly packed the open wound with clean cloth, her movements precise. “It would be easier with a healer’s magic,” she admitted, her tone clipped, “but I’ll do what I can.”
I hovered nearby, watching her work with a mix of awe and dread. My magic simmered just beneath my skin, itching to help but unsure how to direct itself without making things worse. The room felt stifling, too hot despite the cold air outside. Clay’s gaze burned into my back, his silence far louder than any words could have been.
He hadn’t spoken since I told him what I’d done—how I’d snuck into the dungeons, taken Camilla, and brought her here. He hadn’t chastised me or yelled, not yet. Silently,he’d simply thrown on a cotton shirt, led us to the stables, and set a punishing pace to Hyrax Manor. Now, though, his quiet fury radiated off him like the heat of his dragonfire, simmering, dangerous.
He wouldn’t be able to keep quiet for much longer.
Even without looking at him, I could feel the weight of his judgment, the questions he didn’t need to voice. When I did chance a glance his way, his eyes blazed with restrained anger and something else—unease, perhaps, or the careful calculation of someone trying to solve a puzzle they didn’t want the answer to. It left me on edge, my already frayed nerves stretched thin.
Elaina wiped sweat from her brow and glanced over her shoulder, her tone clipped. “I need you out.”
The words stung, but I couldn’t blame her. I nodded and turned to leave, only to pause when she spoke again.
“No, I needbothof you out,” she clarified. She didn’t even glance up, her hands steady as she packed more cloth into Camilla’s wound. “The tension in here is unbearable—I don’t know if it’s Clay’s temper or whatever energy is buzzing off of you, Thea, but it’s suffocating me.”
