Page 64 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Hyrax was the only person who had ever spoken about my past with such finality. His words carried no doubt, no speculation. As much as I wanted to deny him, I couldn’t ignore the possibility that he might hold the answers I’d been so desperate to find.
Reluctantly, I crossed the room and sank into the chair at his table. His blue eyes sparkled as he regarded me.
“This is nice,” he remarked, summoning two glasses of wine with an easy wave of hishand. He pulled his to his mouth, smelling deeply before drinking with an appreciative hum. I left mine untouched. “We used to do this more often.”
The memory stirred something uneasy in me. “Things were different then.”
Back then, I hadn’t realized I was visiting the Underworld. I hadn’t known that the mentor I had come to trust was the God who had tried to enslave the Mortal race. I hadn’t realized the only reason he was showing me kindness was because of some prophecy that I was the key to his release. That had been back when I valued him, when I trusted him.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been burned by trusting someone I shouldn’t.
Hyrax nodded, his expression pinched in thought. “So you say. Tell me, who exactly did you think you were speaking to in those days?”
I sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Some specter of my imagination, maybe? Or a face from my past that I’d forgotten.”
“I told you,” he said firmly, “there are no memories from your past.”
There it was again—that same confident declaration, hanging in the air between us.
Somehow it made even less sense now than it had the first time I’d heard it.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted, my voice quieter as I leaned my elbows forward onto the table. “How can a person simply have no memories?”
Hyrax traced circles along the rim of his crystal glass, his expression pensive. “It’s difficult for me to explain.”
“What in all of creation could make it difficult to answer basic questions?” My irritation spilled out in sharp words. After all this time, why was he still insisting on keeping these secrets from me? Secrets about me I had every right to know the answer to.
“You must be ready—not only to hear the truth, butto accept it as well.”
My frustration erupted. My glass flew from the table, shattering against the stone wall. Shards of crystal glittered as they scattered across the floor. Hyrax didn’t flinch. He simply watched, infuriatingly calm as ever, while I struggled to steady my breathing. It had been a long time since I had lost control of my magic like that.
His lips twitched into a faint smirk. “As I was saying, you don’t seem ready for that.”
Anger burned through me like molten fire, searing every nerve. Just as I was about to unleash the full force of my rage, the door creaked open, and the echo of boots against the stone floor cut through the tension.
Caldrius strode into the room, his dark hair gleaming in the light of the roaring fireplace. He paused when he saw me, dark eyes flicking between Hyrax and me before he offered a polite bow.
“Theadora,” he said smoothly with a lopsided grin, “how lovely to see you again.”
“Caldrius,” I replied, my mind flashing to that night in his chambers.
His knowing gaze lingered on me, as if he could sense the unresolved tension in the room—and where my thoughts had drifted.
“This evening’s reports, my liege,” he said, walking forward and resting his hand against the back of my chair as he leaned forward to give a stack of parchment to Hyrax with a bowed head. The tips of his fingers traced lightly against my back, barely a touch, yet somehow searing. A slow, absentminded gesture, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Like it was natural. A shiver ran up my spine before I could stop it.
“The new arrivals are waiting outside for you,” Caldrius continued.
I frowned. “New arrivals?”
They both glanced at me, their expressions confirming my suspicion. Recently dead souls had arrived.
“Do you greet them personally?” I asked Hyrax.
Risingfrom his seat, he smoothed his jacket and glanced down at the parchment. It was a list, each name meticulously recorded, with a specific time and date. Their times of death.
“I am the ruler of the Underworld. It is my duty to welcome all souls to their place of rest and determine their future in the realm.”
Curiosity itched at the edges of my irritation. Despite my frustration with him, I couldn’t suppress it. “What does that mean, exactly?”
