Page 39 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
I chewed on my lip, closing my eyes as I pinched my arm aggressively. Maybe I could just force myself to wake up and this would be over. I would no longer be trapped in a dark bedroom with a madman. If I could only wake up—
“It’s fine if you want to hide out for a little while. He’s looking for you, but I sent him toward the lake. I won’t tell him you’re in here if you don’t want.”
Frowning, I tilted my head slightly. “And why would you keep that from Hyrax? You’re his second-in-command, aren’t you?”
“I am.” He nodded. “And you’re obviously upset. So I won’t tell him you’re here if you don’t want to see him.”
I opened my mouth to respond, only for the words to fall helplessly between us. Truthfully, that level of kindness wasn’t something I had expected from the man whose violence was so profound his own brother had had to flee from him and start a new country. The man who now was closer to Hyrax than anyone had ever been before.
Spare his wife Pasnia perhaps, but I had never actuallyseen her.
Caldrius smiled softly, as if he could sense how confused I was by him. He stood from the bed and pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, dropping it on the sheets in front of him.
A strangled noise—something between a gasp and a very undignified squeak—escaped me as I spun away.
Too late. The image seared itself into my mind. Broad chest, golden skin dusted with scars, muscles carved like something out of a sculptor’s dream.
Absolutely not. I needed to erase the last five seconds from existence.
“What are you doing?” I cried.
His dark laugh fell around me in waves. “I’ve spent the day dealing with some undesirable companions and am covered in blood. I’d like to change my clothes. No one said you had to look.”
I wasn’t looking.
I might have initially peeked briefly just to see if he had clothed himself once more, but I quickly turned again when he reached for the buckle of his pants.
“You’re very indecent!”
“Not yet.”
“Well, couldn’t you at least have waited until I left?”
“No,” he said simply.
I scoffed, huffing out my frustration and choosing to change the subject. “What kind of undesirable companions do you keep?”
“They’re not friends of mine, I assure you. The Underworld is a realm not unlike yours, though. When my liege’s subjects get out of line, it’s my job to remind them that their existence can be ended anytime he wishes.”
I tossed over his words. There wasn’t much literature on the Underworld. It had been so many years since the gods had walked among us, and Descendants and Mortals only traveled here after our deaths, so it wasn’t like we knew much about this realm in our lives.
“Where does a soul go if it dies here?”
“They don’t go anywhere,” Caldrius shrugged, stepping forward in loose trousers that hung low on his hips and an unbuttoned shirt. I shivered involuntarily. “If Hyrax extinguishes a soul, it is a death of a final kind.”
Well, that sounded… unpleasant. Chewing on my lip, I wondered how many years Caldrius had spent here. He’d died centuries ago, of course, but how long had it taken him to get close enough with Hyrax to earn his current position?
“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked, passing in front of me as he made his way to the bar cart that sat near the fireplace. It was nearly empty, but he poked around at it until he pulled out a crystal decanter with amber liquid and held it high. “Looks like all I have to offer is whiskey.”
“Whiskey is fine,” I muttered, making my way to the couch that sat facing the fireplace. I didn’t particularly love the idea of sitting and sharing drinks with Caldrius of all people, especially when he was still rather indecently dressed, but I seemed to have very little control over when I entered and left this realm and he was right—I was upset, and I didn’t want to see Hyrax. So, I’d have to be okay with his Supreme Lieutenant instead.
“Tell me what’s got you so riled up.” He passed me a glass and moved to sit on the floor against the wall.
I cocked my head as I looked down at him, somewhat surprised. No one at court would dare sit on the ground so casually, but here I was with a former king who currently nursed his drink with one arm propped up against a bent knee while his dark eyes stared at me.
“I got engaged today,” I admitted, tossing my head back to stare at the worn ceiling.
He chuckled, running a hand through the dark waves of his hair, even as dried blood lingered on his fingertips. He let his hair grow long, and it looked unkempt, as if he hadn’t bothered to comb it.
