Page 70 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
“My father has always talked out of both sides of his mouth,” Damon said finally. “He says what he must to appease both Athenia and Promissa, but he will never risk another Great War. He won’t support you.”
“I didn’t come here for his support,” Clay said, his voice steady.
“I just told you—”
“I didn’t say the Emperor in question had to be your father.”
Another silence fell, heavy and sharp. A slow, icy shiver crept up my spine.
“Surely, you are not suggesting what I think you are,” Damon said, his voice trembling, whether with anger or fear. I couldn’t tell.
“Of course not,” Clay reassured him smoothly. “My plans will take time to set into motion, but it’s no secret that your father’s affection for his goblets is drawing him ever closer to death’s door.”
Damon grunted, a sound that felt like reluctant agreement.
“You and I both know that you will become the next Emperor far sooner than I will become the next Athenian Dragon,” Clay continued. “You’ve met my father, Damon. You know what he’s capable of. We cannot allow him to destroy everything my ancestors fought to build. Every day, he drives us closer to ruin. The people are starving, our borders are crumbling, and Promissa is circling like vultures. I’ve seen what happens when a kingdom falls, Damon. I won’t let it happen to Athenia.”
“What is it you want from me, Clayton?”
“I want your word—not just as a friend, but as the next monarch of Tennebris. I want your assurance that when I overthrow my father, your armies will be ready to support me if the need arises.”
“What you ask for is no small thing,” Damon said, his voice tight with unease. “You know I love my country, but betraying my father? Risking everything for this alliance? Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me, Clayton?”
“I’m aware. I must ask it, nonetheless.”
There was a long pause, then the unmistakable sound of two hands clasping in agreement.
“I suppose this is my first official alliance,” Damon said.
Clay laughed softly. “And I suppose this is mine.”
The creak of furniture signaled one of them rising. My heart lurched, and I darted back into my room, sliding under the covers without making a sound. My chest heaved as I lay still, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts racing. There was only one explanation for that conversation coming to mind.
Clay was planning a coup.
My thoughts tangled in a storm of confusion and dread. This wastreason.The justification of his reasons didn’t matter. If the Dragon found out, he would have Clay executed without mercy and have one of his younger sister’s named as heir.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, retreating until I could no longer hear them. Until all I could hear was the realization repeating itself like a mantra in my head.
Clayton Vail was a traitor.
And the Dragon would kill him for it.
I laid in the dark, staring aimlessly as my heart refused to slow for what felt like an eternity. In truth, it must have only been a few minutes before my door creaked open and Clay stepped inside though.
He moved through the shadows without a word, his footsteps soft but his presence heavy. Sitting at the side of my bed, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped under the weight he carried, a burden that seemed unbearable even for him. And I didn’t have the slightest idea what to say to him.
We sat like that for a long time and the silence stretched between us, taut and unyielding. Neither of us knew how to begin, how to bridge the yawning chasm that had grown between us.
I wanted to hug him and throttle him all at the same time.
Which was, honestly, how I felt about him most of the time.
“You heard.”
It wasn’t a question. It didn’t have to be.
“How did you know?”
