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Clay laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender before taking the bottle from me and gesturing for my turn.

“What do you do for fun?” I asked.

A furious blush spread across his cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I enjoy mystery stories. Heroes seeking justice and all that.”

I’d known that—seen the novels in his room last year—but there was something endearing about hearing him admit it aloud. It was nice seeing Clay as himself.

“What do you like to do for fun?” he countered.

Frowning, I leaned my head back against the bed. “I haven’t had much time for fun over the past year,” I admitted.

“When you have?”

“I liked when we went riding before you took me to Hyrax Estate.”

Clay laughed, his gaze distant with the memory a smile lingering on his lips. “I don’t think Netta enjoyed it as much as you did.”

Several months ago, he’d been the one to first escort me to my ancestral home. We’d raced our horses to get there, and though I’d clearly won, he’d insisted I cheated when my powers accidentally lifted my horse, Netta, into the air. Perhaps it hadn’t been my best display of sportsmanship.

I considered my next question. “Do you want to be king?”

Clay tilted his head, as though the question had caught him off guard. He pulled the bottle to his mouth, drinking deeply before answering.

“Truthfully, yes. It’s probably more diplomatic to say something about hating the role and only wanting to serve the people, but I was bred and raised to wear that crown.

It’s the only thing I’ve ever known. I’ve worked hard to prepare myself to be a good king.

I care about my people—about keeping them safe and fed.

As the Dragon, I’ll be able to make sure they’re taken care of.

There are things I’d like to change one day, things I want to revolutionize. ”

“What things?” I interrupted.

“That’s another question,” he teased, raising a brow at me. “It’s my turn now. What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” I answered quickly, again puzzled by his choice of a rather simple question.

But as I prepared to continue my previous line of questioning, another thought surfaced. “Last year, you told me the story of Caldrius stealing the Bident of Hyrax for Zeus before the Gods raised the Veil.”

He furrowed his brow. “Yes?”

“What happened to him after? Did he have a family - a wife?”

Clay passed the bottle to me and leaned back against the couch, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankle. “What made you think about that?”

I shrugged, feigning innocence. “It just popped into my head.”

He stared at me for so long, I wondered if he knew I was lying. If he did, though, he didn’t call me on it.

“I’m not sure,” he said finally. “Most information about Caldrius has been erased from the Zion family records. He’s not exactly celebrated. I believe he had a wife, but I don’t know much about her.”

The room seemed heavy with unspoken words. I swallowed down the awkwardness with another gulp of wine.

“Tell me what you think of Veric,” Clay said softly. It wasn’t a question—it was a command.

I sighed. “He’s been kind so far. Friendly. Easy to talk to. There are far worse men to be engaged to.”

He took the bottle and drank deeply, staring at it for a moment before nodding in agreement. “That’s true.”

I took the bottle back. “Tell me about Elaina. ”

“Elaina is… going to be an incredible queen. We’ve been engaged since before we could walk.

Neither of us is the other’s first choice.

” A pointed look in my direction. “But she’s kind.

Like me, preparing to rule is all she’s ever known.

She speaks several languages, has traveled the world, served the poor, and studied under renowned healers.

She’ll be a wife in name, but a queen by birthright. ”

Jealousy churned miserably in my stomach. Sweet, perfect Elaina. A wonderful woman. A better queen. Everything I could never be.

“Why do you always keep roses in your suite instead of other flowers?” he asked, breaking my spiraling thoughts.

I rolled my eyes. “Surely there are more exciting questions.”

His expression sobered as he stood. Silently, he walked towards where I laid sideways across the bed, head propped up by my bent elbow. Clay never looked away from me as he came to stand right in front of me and lowered himself to his knees so that we were eye level.

“You are exciting to me, Thea," he breathed, reaching up to trail his fingers down my cheek and jaw. "Your likes, dislikes. The way your mind works. Your sense of morality. Your body, especially in the fashions of this kingdom, I might add. It all excites me. Yes, there are parts of you that I don’t yet know, but I want to. I want to know your favorite food, flower, color. I want to commit it all to memory because it all excites me.”

My heart sputtered and stalled. I knew it.He had been listening in earlier, when I’d told Veric we weren’t friends and hardly knew each other. I’d said it partly to anger him, knowing the words would frustrate him, but I hadn’t expected this answer.

“Roses are my favorite,” I finally answered, breathless as he leaned closer, as he focused so completely on my lips I thought he might just close that inch of space between us and kiss me. “Because they remind me of you.”

His attention on me was absolute. The air between us thickened, every sensation heightened. Warmth was crawling up my body, bringing with it an overwhelming awareness of every place my clothing touched my too-sensitive skin.

He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want you."

This game had been very, very risky.

The adjoining door creaked open suddenly. Nessira entered, carrying washcloths and a flickering candle. Her sharp gaze scanned us, even as we jerked apart, then flickered to the now empty bottle on the floor.

She cleared her throat aggressively. “I’ve brought towels, my lady.”

Flushing deeply, I pointed toward the table. “Leave them there, Nessira.”

“It’s quite late,” she said pointedly, her tone laced with accusation as she glanced at Clay.

Clay stood, taking the bottle. “I should let Lady Moore rest. Big day tomorrow.”

Nessira watched him go with arms crossed impatiently across her chest. As the door clicked shut behind him, she turned to me, muttering something about déjà vu before wishing me a good night and leaving me alone with my thoughts.