Page 20 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
“How do you even know that I’m in my trial?” I wondered aloud, stepping closer to their table. “How do you always seem to know what’s happening in the MortalRealm?”
Hyrax handed a stack of parchment to Caldrius, who flipped through it leisurely, signing off on a few with a nearby quill. Part of me wanted to crane my neck over to glance at them. Exactly what kind of business did the King of the Underworld find himself so preoccupied with?
“You’re asking the wrong questions,” Hyrax said, his tone clipped.
“And what, exactly, are the right questions, Hyrax?” I snapped back.
His eyes locked onto mine, an intensity in his gaze so fierce that I almost stumbled backward.
“Everyone in this room knows the questions you’re longing for answers to,” he said. “Your refusal to simply ask them directly is wasting my time. Believe it or not, my time is valuable.”
Hyrax turned away from me, effectively dismissing me once more, and I fought the powerful urge I had to stomp my foot and demand his attention.
Caldrius stared at me, a challenge in his smile.
Fine. If they wanted me to ask, I would.
“Tell me what happened to my memories!”
Hyrax rolled his eyes, disappointment flickering across his face, and he remained silent, the emptiness of it stretching between us. I looked to Caldrius, who only leaned back in his chair and smirked.
“That’s not the question he wants you to ask,” Caldrius mock-whispered behind his hand.
I almost screamed in frustration.
“You don’t have any memories, Theadora,” Hyrax said finally. “There is nothing for you to remember.”
The words struck like a blow. Ice flooded my blood, the coldness of it seeping through the warmth of the robe Hyrax had given me. The world around me blurred. The air thinned. I was about to wake up.
But now, I didn’t want to leave.
“How is that possible?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Do you expect me to believe I just appeared on that bridge out of thin air?”
Caldrius chuckled,and my hand shot out instinctively, grasping onto the wineglass in front of me and hurling it at his head.
The bastard ducked with record speed, and all I earned for my trouble was another smirk and a cheeky wink. Gods, I hated him. I hated them both.
“I expect you to stop acting like a child,” Hyrax snapped, slamming his palm on the table. The sound reverberated through the room. “And I expect you to face the truth. I will not explain to you what you are not ready to admit to yourself. Now go back to your realm, Theadora. We’ll discuss the bridge when you’re ready to admit who and what you are.”
I could feel the dampness returning to my hair and skin.
“See you soon, Theadora,” Caldrius called to me, his voice a silken promise.
Iwoke with a start, gasping for air.
My lungs only filled with frigid, salty water.
Choking, I thrashed blindly, arms and legs working as hard as possible, but it was useless. The lake dragged me down, cold and endless, pressing against my ribs, crushing. I kicked hard, forcing my sluggish limbs to move, but the weight of the water pulled me deeper. The light above shimmered too far away. My lungs screamed for air but I wasn’t going to make it.
Magic suddenly surged in my veins, as if sensing my building panic, and for a moment I stopped fighting the pull of the water.
Of course. This was the magic trial, which meant I needed magicto survive.
The power inside me flared hot against the cold, raw and electric. I didn’teven have to think—I just let go.
And unleashed.
Energy surged through me, shoving me upward like a bolt of lightning. My hair coiled wildly around my face as I shot through the depths, cutting through the water.
