Page 35 of The Rose in the Shadows

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face and hair, pulling it out of its normally tousled perfection.

“It’s like that sometimes,” he told me. “Especially when you first start calling on it. The magic is always there, under the surface, waiting to be released. For those of us who are more powerful than others, it can be much more difficult to contain at times.”

“And when you go too long without releasing it?”

He laughed softly and raised an eyebrow in a smirk that left me slightly off balance.

“Can’t say I’ve ever tried to go too long without a release,” he insinuated.

Well, that was… not the kind of joke I expected him to make.

As I blushed furiously, he walked past me to the darkness on the edge of the balcony. A large pot of flowers was nearly hidden within the obscurity of the darkness on the edge of the balcony. Wordlessly, he pulled a scarlet rose free and held it in his palm, bringing it to his nose for only a moment before turning back to me.

“I imagine that the magic will get more unruly the longer it’s kept chained up and, therefore, more painful in its attempt to escape.”

“I don’t even know how I did it.”

He held the rose out to me, flat on his palm between us. A thornless rose, pulled from the shadows and held between a Descendant of Zion and a Descendant of Hyrax, a silent invitation for me to unleash my murderous power once more.

“What were you feeling?” He asked me, his voice low.

I shrugged helplessly, not wanting to admit the truth behind the emotions that had inflamed my magic. It felt like a weakness, and I didn’t want to admit to any of my weaknesses - not when I wasn’t sure if I could trust him with them.

“Afraid,” I whispered, eyes on the ground. “Afraid of him. Afraid of being stuck here while he makes decisions for me. I was angry too, though. It was this strange combination of the two, almost like an unwillingness to surrender to my fear. That must be why it’s been so hard to tap into my powers. The emotion is too complex to replicate.”

He didn’t answer me, but his silence was answer enough. When I met his gaze, I knew what he was thinking without him having to say it aloud. We were all prisoners to the Dragon’s wishes in some way or another.

With a deep breath, I turned my attention to the flower in his hand. Slowly it lifted, floating weightlessly in the air until it twirled in endless circles between us. Somehow, simply naming the emotion had made the magic click into place within me. Almost like I had pulled a plug that had been blocking it and now everything could flow uninhibitedly. The tingling within me was no longer overwhelming or frightening; it was a comfort, a friend waiting under the surface to support me. Calling it forth was as easy as calling my breath. Ryla had been right all along. Itwasas easy as moving an arm.

“I’ve felt like such a failure these past few weeks,” I whispered. “And the entire time, this was right under the surface.”

At some point, I’d begun to doubt whether this would even be possible. Everyone kept reminding me what I had done on the bridge, but I had started to convince myself that they were wrong. That I simply didn’t have this kind of power within me.

Clay made a low sound deep in his throat, his eyes transfixed on the flower floating between us. Slowly, they lifted and through a curtain of full, dark lashes, he met my gaze.

“You’ve never been truly powerless, Thea.”

No, I suppose I hadn’t been. It had just taken a moment alone with the Crown Prince for me to realize it.

Chapter Eleven

We were in Clay’s private chambers. That much was clear as I stepped back into the room, and he closed the terrace doors behind us. His bedroom was as grand as my own, but remarkably unkempt for a royal bedchamber. The blankets were thrown back across the bed haphazardly, with garments from the night before carelessly thrown over them. Papers and folders were scattered over the large desk under the window. And the books. Books covered the room. On the shelves, the end tables, and even stacked on the floor in the corners of the space.

I fingered through one gently, finding notes on warfare tactics and maneuvering.

“Do you ever take a day off from being a Prince?” I wondered aloud.

He leaned against the terrace doors, watching me explore with his arms crossed against his chest. Absentmindedly, I noted that we were breaking protocol. It was one of the few lessons I’d memorized on royal customs. Unmarried members of Councilfamilies were not to be left alone with potential suitors in their rooms, as if we were nothing more than unruly teenagers. Even in group settings, Rankor and Kent never strayed farther than the parlor of my own suite. It had to do with heirs. There could be no question about what bloodlines were running through my child, or Clay’s future heir, for that matter.

I probably should have seen the arranged marriage plan coming from a mile away.

Clay would likely be married off, too, to a woman from Zion’s bloodline, I realized. He would face the same pressures to produce an heir in a timely manner. I wondered how soon it would be for him. Based on how cluttered his bedroom was, it hardly looked like he regularly entertained company. Was it possible I was the only girl to have ever entered this room?

I mentally scolded myself for such a ridiculous thought.

“I suppose there are some,” he answered me.

“Some?”

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