Page 31 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Truly.
I wasn’t dying, nor was I planning on leaving his embrace.
My self-restraint fractured into tiny shards, lingering between us as months of tension and longing, and an overwhelming need for each other, could no longer be contained. I pulled his face to mine again, tangling my tongue with his, and I ran my hands through his silken hair.
A delicate throat clearing broke us apart as quickly as we had come together.
Nessira stood in the doorway of my bathing chamber, one hand over her eyes and the hint of a smile on her lips.
“I apologize, my lady,” she said lightly. “I wasn’t aware you had company, but I believe Miss Emeryn will visit shortly to discuss the Ascension.”
Right.
Of course, Emeryn would be on her way. She had stopped by shortly after the completion of both of my previous trials to discuss the next steps. I should have known she would come to visit me today now that I had woken.
My body flushed brilliantly red, and I pulled the small quilt off my bed to wrap it around myself, suddenly aware of the fact that my shift was indeed rather revealing. I hadn’t even heard the door as Nessira came in. Gods, anyone could have walked in on us and we wouldn’t have even realized.
Reckless. We had been so idiotically reckless.
“Nessira.” Clay’s voice shook slightly as he smoothed his shirt. “I know I have no right to ask, but I would appreciate your discretion.”
Her eyes sparkled with poorly concealed amusement. “I do not know what you’re referencing, Your Grace.”
“Right.” Clay nodded and, with a fleeting glance back at me, backed out of my rooms and let the door fall heavily closed behind him.
The silence stretched for a moment before Nessira burst into laughter. Groaning, I flopped back onto the bed, pulling the quilt over my face.
That had been a mistake, one I couldn’t risk making again.
Even if his touch on my face and neck would remain burned into my memory for the rest of my days in this realm.
Chapter Eight
My life is going to change today.
The idea had been running through my mind since the second I woke, on an endless repeat, no matter what I did to ignore it.
I shook my head as if to shake it out of my thoughts while I smoothed my thumb over the parchment before me. The slate pencil rested between my teeth as I shaded the delicate edges of a rose petal. My sketches were clumsy, uneven at best, but that was part of why I enjoyed the task.
It seemed like everything else in my life came too easily.
My status as a Descendant of Hyrax bestowed upon me riches, jewels, and high social standing. It had initially taken some time for me to gain control over my magic, but now it flowed through me easily. Power that others could only dream of commanding. Even fighting had come naturally, as if I’d been born knowing how to wield my body as a weapon.
But drawing was different.
I was absolutely terrible at it.
I’d been practicing every day, determined to develop a skill that was earned. And while I was still a long way off from painting any murals on the palace wall, the practice brought me a good bit of peace.
Peace that I desperately needed. Especially today.
Today, I would ascend to the Council.
Months of endless preparation had all led to this single day. What had at first been forced upon me had become something I wanted to embrace. Yet, as I sat here waiting for the ceremony, I felt strangely uneasy.
Something about this all felt… wrong.
It made little sense. Ibelongedon the Council. I was the last Descendant of Hyrax, the only one who could claim my family’s seat. I had trained, studied, and sacrificed to be here. I was ready.
