Page 71 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
He laughed softly, a bitter sound almost swallowed by the quiet. “I’m always aware of you, Thea. Sometimes, I can’t tell if your scent is real or just a figment of my mind, but that floral aroma of yours... it was too strong to deny this time.”
I frowned. “You can smell me?”
A slight nod. “It’s a Dragon thing.”
“Then why didn’t you stop the conversation?” I demanded, my voice tight with emotion.
Part of me admired him—admired the strength it took to attempt what he was planning. I had always known Clay would make a better ruler than his father ever could. The fact that he was willing to risk his own life for the good of his people spoke volumes about the kind of leader he would be.
But did that make him a good man?
Because I may be hiding things from him, but I wasn’t the only one. More often than not, over these past few months, he too had kept secrets from me. He’d lied to me. And now, this was one more betrayal to add to the growing list.
It didn’t matter if we couldn’t be together because of our bloodlines.
We couldn’t be together because it was becoming apparent that we didn’t trust each other.
“I suppose I didn’t mind if you happened to find out,” he breathed. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you—I didn’t want to put you in that kind of danger—but I hated the idea of something else lingering between us.”
“I’ve been in danger since the moment I showed up,” I reminded him sharply. “You still should have told me. Who else knows?”
“Iris. A few members of the Guard I trust. And now Damon.”
Iris. An invisible fist wrapped around my heart with an iron-tight grasp. Of course she was involved in this too.
My arm snatched out, grabbing his wrist. “He’ll kill you, Clay. He’ll kill anyone who helps you.”
Finally, he lifted his head, meeting my gaze. I expected fire in his eyes, the burning passion that usually lurked there, but all I saw was a heavy sadness as he twisted his arm to take hold of my hand.
“I’m aware of what I’m risking,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I have to do what’s right. It’s not just his cruelty, Thea, or the abuse ofthe women at Court. It’s the way he taxes the poor to keep them in need of his support. Then he withholds that support to manipulate them into submission.
“He appoints the most deplorable of his friends to be dukes, even though they show no regard for the well-being of their provinces. There are parts of this country you haven’t seen, Thea. Good people who are dying in poverty because he wants them to. He wants them to feel like they need him. He wants them to fear how much worse it could be without the crumbs he throws their way.”
The sheets slipped to my waist as I sat up, my thin nightgown brushing against my skin. I didn’t care, and he didn’t even seem to notice. His words hung in the air between us, too heavy to ignore.
“And you will change all those things?” I asked, my voice soft but firm.
He paused, letting the tension coil tighter, pulling me closer to the edge of understanding. A shiver raced down my spine, the weight of his answer already pressing down on me.
“I will change so many things, Theadora,” he said at last, his voice a promise as much as it was a challenge.
“Like what?”
“Like the Council,” he said, his tone sharper now, more resolute. He squeezed my hand gently. “I’m going to change everything about the Council.”
Clay didn’t stay to explain what his proposed changes to the Council were. He simply told me to get some sleep and left, pulling the doorclosed tightly behind him. As if sleep was possible when those words turned over and over in my mind.
Surely, the changes he referenced weren’t about...Council marriages.
There were plenty of other reforms he could have meant. Perhaps he wanted to change the Trials? Or question the tradition of the most powerful family member from the High Houses being appointed to the Council. Maybe he intended to expand the Council to include Descendants from other Houses.
There were countless possibilities Clay could have been mulling over long before he ever met me.
But I knew Clay. Deep in my soul, I understood him in a way I didn’t understand anyone else. My gut was telling me he wasn't talking about any of those other ideas.
The thought gnawed at me. Even when he left my room, sleep evaded me, and lying in bed only made my thoughts spiral further—Councils, magical realms, marriages, politics. I was so fuckingtiredof thinking about politics.
Eventually, I abandoned my bed and settled at the desk, tracing idle shapes as my mind wandered. I let myself drift to simpler things: the feel of sunlight on my skin in the Village of Life, the way the laughter there had felt warm and real. It had been more of a home than any other place I’d known—more than Hyrax Manor, more than the halls of Athenia.
