Page 11 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
She hesitated, looking as if she might say something more, but only offered a small nod and stepped through the threshold. I closed the door after her and sagged against it, letting out the heavy breath I’d held since she arrived.
A few months ago, I would have never imagined a conversation with Iris to be so forced and dull.
I missed her desperately. I missed my lively friend who snuck out of the castle with me and always obsessed over gowns and fashion. I missed the surprise of opening my door and seeing what color her hair would be.
Even though she had been here with me, I felt her absence like a missing limb.
Still, she was trying. I was trying.
For now, that had to be enough.
The heavy door loomed before me, it's golden handles gleaming in the dim corridor light. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. The last time I'd walked through this threshold, I'd been taken to the Dragon's private office, shackles had bitten into my wrists, my cheek had pressed hard into his wooden desk, and the skin of my back had split open after he whipped me. My chest was tight, panic suddenly freezing me in place.
When a servant opened the door suddenly, my breath hitched and I braced myself to return to that office, but she led me instead to a large meeting chamber. Relief flooded over me as I glanced around the space. The room had no windows so the candles hung in sconces along the wall provided the only light. The Council sat in rigid silence at a long oval table made of fine cherry wood, their eyes snapping to me as I stepped into the room.
In the corner, Clay sat apart from the official members, an unoccupied chair beside him. I assumed they left it for me.
“We’re here to listen,” he explained as I sank into the velveteen seat next to him and crossed one ankle in front of the other. “Only speak if addressed directly. Since we’re not officially on the Council, these meetings are more about preparation than participation.”
I nodded, trying to push away my lingering nerves. “Understood.”
His gaze lingered on my face, searching. “Did you sleep?”
I hesitated. “You could say that.”
One brow arched, a silent invitation to elaborate but before I could summon a lie, the Dragon began speaking, his commanding voice cutting through the room like a blade.
I never thought I would be grateful for the Dragon interrupting me.
“What news is there?” the Dragon questioned, rifling through a stack of parchment.
Rosalia cleared her throat. “There have been reports, Your Majesty, of three House Archives being raided. Two in the city of Alegra and one in the city of Mansala.”
Tension settled over the room like a storm cloud and my attention flicked to Clay, hoping for some additional insight, but his furrowed brow told me he was just as confused.
Who would break into Archives, and why?
“What Houses?” Clara asked sharply.
“Two Herea Archives. The other was an Archive maintained in honor ofHarmonia.”
The Dragon’s bushy eyebrows rose sharply, and he exchanged a pointed look with his son. Clay only tilted his head in a slight shake. He knew nothing about this, either.
“What was taken?” the Dragon pressed.
“Nothing, Your Majesty,” Rosalia assured him. “As of now, we have no reason to think that this is anything more than the work of rebellious teenagers.”
The glare he sent her could have made flowers wilt.
“I won’t tolerate it. Send a team of guards to find these criminals and publicly discipline them.”
Rosalia’s hesitation was subtle, but I caught it - the faint tightening of her lips, the clench of her fist beneath the table. It was the first crack I’d seen in the Council’s deferential show of obedience.
“And what updates do we have on the Tenebris situation?” the Dragon asked, pivoting topics sharply.
Gregory scratched his beard. “We believe Fort Charu is now at full occupancy.”
The Dragon’s golden eyes flared. Fort Charu was a base in Tenebris, a country we were supposedly allied with, but if our suspicions were correct and they were housing Promissan soldiers in a fort that close to Athenia…
