Page 136 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice raw, pleading.
I had to.
“For eternity, I accept this bond,” I said, the words slicing through me like a blade.
Magic surged. The rope disintegrated into sparks that seared my skin. Caldrius closed a second chain, the one marking our marriage bond, around my wrist, his touch unnervingly gentle. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, his fingers lingered, his grip tightening just enough to make me wonder if he hated this as much as I did.
Hyrax grinned, turning to a servant, who rushed forward with a gilded chest. From within, Hyrax pulled a golden crown, its edges sharp, almost cruel.
“I, Hyrax, God of Death and Ruler of the Mortal Realm, crown you Theadora, Goddess of the Veil, Princess of the Light, heir to the Mortal Realm.”
The crown settled onto my head, its weight unbearable, crushing.
Hyrax turned to Caldrius, lifting a second crown into the air. “And I crown you, Caldrius, Supreme Lieutenant of the Underworld, Prince of the Dark, consort to the Mortal Realm.”
The titles settled over us like chains, heavy and suffocating.
“How could you do this?” Rankor’s voice broke through the silence, filled with fury and betrayal. Iris’ disgust was palpable. But it was Clay’s shattered expression that struck me hardest, breaking what little resolve I had left.
I turned to him, desperately wishing for my magic, for some way to reach him, to explain. But I had nothing. No power, no freedom. Only the chains that now bound me to this life.
A life that I now had no choice but to accept.
“I love Caldrius,” I said, forcing the lie through trembling lips. “Only him. It’s only ever been him.”
A breath of silence.
Clay’s golden eyes flashed, his expression shattering—but not in the way I expected. His shoulders tensed, his fists curled in his bindings, his breath stilled.
I prayed he saw the truth buried beneath my words.
Because if this was my new reality, then I would use every ounce of strength I had to tear it all down from within.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Clayton
Isat in the dungeons of my own palace, slumped against the cold stone wall, my head pounding from the mortal blood pumping through the air. The metallic tang of it clung to everything, a suffocating reminder of how far I’d fallen.
I hadn’t spoken since the guards dumped me here after the wedding.
Thea’s wedding.
From the moment I found that damned drawing of Caldrius, I’d known my ancestor wanted her. How could he not? She was beautiful, powerful, impossibly intelligent—a Goddess among Mortals.
Of course, he wanted her.
And now he had her.
Forever.
The untouched meal the guard had brought hours ago sat at my feet, its smell turning my stomach. I’d recognized the man who delivered it—a soldier who had once sworn loyalty to me, now serving under Hyrax like a coward.
How could we have been so deluded as to think we could win a war against Gods? We’d been reckless to believe this could end any other way.
“Kent’s not doing well,” Iris whispered. The quiet barely carried her soft voice, and I noticed she had wrapped her arms in makeshift bandages torn from her clothes.
I didn’t respond. What could I say? Thea’s words had already ripped my heart out and left it bleeding on the ballroom floor. There was no saving Kent now. No saving any of us. By morning, we’d all be dead.
