Chapter 142 Poisoned fate
IRIS
The room is dim when he walks in, but it feels like the shadows shift around him. Darian stands in the doorway, motionless, the faint golden glow from the hallway catching on the side of his face. He’s still holding a glass in one hand.
His gaze finds mine instantly.
Something inside me tightens.
He looks… wrecked. Not outwardly. Not in the way anyone else would notice. His shoulders are squared, his jaw sharp, his posture powerful. But I see it. I feel it. In the faint tremor of his fingers, the stiffness of his breath, the flicker in his eyes that looks like a man standing at the edge of something bottomless.
“Darian,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
Just stands there, staring at me like he’s trying to decide if coming back to this room was a mistake. Or maybe he’s afraid I’ll ask questions he doesn’t have answers to yet.
I rise slowly from the chair, my legs stiff from sitting so long in silence. The air between us is thick, heavy and trembling with something I can’t name. Fear. Grief. Anger. All of it.
I take one step toward him.
He doesn’t move.
Another step. And another. Until I’m close enough to see the exhaustion in the shadows under his eyes, the faint redness at the rims, the tightness in his jaw.
I lift a hand, hesitating only for a heartbeat, then gently press my fingers to his forearm.
He flinches.
Not away from me, just… inward. Like he’s been holding everything inside by force, and the slightest touch threatens to break the dam.
“Darian,” I say again, softer this time. “Talk to me.”
He closes his eyes.
One breath. A slow inhale, as if gathering courage. Then he sets the glass down on the nearest table, and the sound is too loud in the quiet room.
“It’s my father,” he says finally, voice low and rough. “He’s been poisoned.”
My heart drops. “Poisoned? Darian…”
He shakes his head, jaw clenching. “Don’t. Not yet.”
I swallow hard and nod, waiting, my hand still resting lightly on his arm.
He keeps his eyes closed as he speaks, like saying the words out loud will make them real.
“The healers… they’ve been treating him for days. Trying to figure out what was wrong. I thought it was exhaustion. Stress. Anything else.” His voice thins. “I didn’t know.”
Oh God.
I step closer until I can feel the heat of his chest near mine. “Darian, I’m so sorry.”
He opens his eyes then, and the pain in them is sharp enough to slice through me. “The symptoms were subtle at first. Easy to dismiss. And he hid it from me, he always hides things from me.” His voice turns raw. “And tonight… it got worse. So much worse. Too fast.”
I squeeze his arm gently, grounding him. “What did the healers say?”
He laughs, but there’s nothing humorous about it. “They don’t know if he’ll make it through the night.”
A breath punches out of me. “Darian…”
He looks down at me, eyes dark and burning. “He was bleeding. Coughing, damn it, Iris.” His breath catches, and he lifts a trembling hand to his face, pressing his fingers to his eyes like he’s trying to hide the flicker of emotion breaking through. “I’ve seen my father take a blade to the gut and stand; I’ve seen him break bones and still fight. But tonight…”
His voice cracks.
Just barely.
And it makes my chest twist violently.
“He looked small,” Darian whispers. “Weak. I’ve never seen him like that. Not once.”
I reach up and gently touch his cheek. “You’re scared.”
His eyes snap open. “Of course I’m scared.”
The confession feels like a shiver through the air. Darian doesn’t fear things. He faces them. He destroys them. But this? Watching a parent die? That’s a different kind of terror. One even he isn’t immune to.
I stroke his cheek, memorizing the warmth of his skin under my fingers. “Come here.”
He hesitates.
Just for a heartbeat.
Then he steps into me, letting me wrap my arms around him. He doesn’t melt into the embrace, not at first. He’s stiff, rigid, like every muscle in his body is braced against breaking. But slowly… slowly… he lets out a breath that shakes. His forehead drops to my shoulder, and his hands come to rest lightly at my hips.
A moment passes.
Then his grip tightens, strong and desperate, like I’m the only thing stopping him from falling apart.
“I should have been here,” he mutters against my skin. “Not in some overpriced restaurant trying to pretend everything was normal.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I whisper.
“I should’ve known.”
“You couldn’t.”
“I should’ve.”
“Darian.” I pull back enough to look at him. “Stop.”
His jaw clenches.
“Your father didn’t tell you,” I remind him gently. “And you can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t know.”
He exhales harshly, fingers digging into my waist. “I can blame myself for everything.”
“Well, don’t,” I say, firmer this time. “Not tonight.”
He searches my eyes, something like conflict flickering there, duty warring with vulnerability.
“I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” he says quietly. “Into this chaos. Into my mess.”
“You didn’t bring me,” I reply softly. “I chose to be here.”
He goes still.
“I want to be with you,” I say. “Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s terrifying. I’m not leaving.”
The muscle in his jaw jumps again… but this time, not from anger. Something softer. Something that makes my stomach flutter and ache all at once.
“Iris…” he murmurs.
He doesn’t get to finish.
A loud knock slams through the room.
Darian tenses instantly, body snapping into alertness. “What?”
The door swings open before he can reach it.
A guard stands there, breathless, face pale. His eyes flick briefly to me before locking firmly on Darian.
“My lord,” he says urgently. “You need to come. Now.”
Darian steps forward, voice sharp. “What happened?”
The guard swallows. “It’s your father. His condition is declining rapidly. The healers say you must come at once.”
My stomach clenches.
Darian’s expression shutters instantly, turning cold, hard, decisive. “Move.”
He strides toward the door, but I catch his hand just before he passes me.
“I’m coming with you,” I say.
He hesitates for a fraction of a second, just long enough for me to see the worry flicker in his eyes.
“It’s not safe,” he says.
I squeeze his hand. “I don’t care.”
“Iris.”
“You shouldn’t face this alone,” I whisper.
He stares at me, breathing hard, torn.
Then he exhales through his nose, once, sharply, and nods.
“Stay close,” he says, his voice tight. “I mean it.”
“I will,” I promise.
He takes my hand.
Firm. Protective. Desperate.
We move through the halls quickly, the guard leading us. The silence in the fortress is suffocating, heavy with tension and fear. Servants stand rigid as we pass, eyes wide and anxious. Guards stiffen, stepping aside with hurried bows. The air feels charged, like the entire haven is holding its breath.
Darian doesn’t look at anyone.
His focus is forward. Only forward.
And on me, his grip tightens every time we turn a corner.
“Darian,” I whisper once, trying to ground him.
He doesn’t slow, but he squeezes my hand in return, a silent acknowledgment.
Our footsteps echo sharply in the corridors. With every turn, the smell changes, subtle at first, but then stronger. Metallic. Cold. Familiar in a way that makes my stomach twist.
Blood.
When we reach the final hallway, I feel his pulse spike through our joined hands. He releases my hand just long enough to push open the heavy door.
The room hits me like a wave.
It’s warm and bright but somehow still feels cold. Healers rush around the bed, hands glowing with spells. The air is thick with magic, sharp, vibrating and frantic. And there, at the center of it all, is the King.
His skin is ashen.
His lips are stained red.
His breath rattles like something scraping against stone. Each inhale sounds like a fight. Each exhale sounds like surrender.
“Oh God…” I whisper before I can stop myself.
The King’s eyes crack open at the sound, and he tries to lift his head. “Darian…”
His voice is barely a breath. Barely a whisper. Barely alive.
Darian moves to his side instantly, all the cold armor slipping for a moment as he reaches out and grips his father’s shoulder.
“I’m here,” he says quietly. “I’m right here.”
The King’s gaze shifts weakly toward me, recognition flickering for a moment. He tries to speak again, but the effort sends him into a harsh, body-wracking cough, blood splattering onto the sheets.
I gasp, stepping forward, but Darian lifts a hand without looking at me.
Not to stop me.
Just… to keep me close without allowing me into the danger circle around the bed.
He turns to the nearest healer, voice low but lethal. “What’s happening now?”
The healer’s hands tremble as they hold pressure magic over the King’s chest. “The poison is progressing faster than expected, my lord. Much faster. We’re losing ground.”
“Fix it,” Darian hisses.
“We’re trying,” the healer replies desperately. “But it’s—”
“Fix. It.”
The healer swallows, nodding rapidly.
I step closer to Darian, whispering, “What can I do?”
He doesn’t look at me, but his voice softens by a fraction. “Stay with me. Don’t leave my sight.”
I nod and move to stand beside him, slipping my hand into his.
For a moment, he squeezes it so tightly I think he might break my fingers, but I don’t care. The pain anchors me as much as it does him.
Another healer rushes forward, panic clear on his face. “His vitals are dropping…his heart…”
The King’s back arches suddenly, a groan tearing from his throat. His body convulses, and the healers scramble, shouting spells and commands.
“Hold him!” one cries.
Darian’s breathing quickens beside me.
“Father!” he snaps, leaning over the bed.
The King’s eyes flutter open again, unfocused, but they land on Darian, just long enough to find him.
“My son…” he whispers.
And then his body goes still.
All at once.
Like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
“No!” Darian’s voice rips through the room, raw and furious.
Healers react instantly, magic bursts from their palms, glowing runes forming in the air.
“Restart the heart!”
“Clear his airway!”
“Stabilize the magic flow!”
The room explodes into motion.
I grip Darian’s hand harder, terrified, helpless, watching as the healers fight for his father’s life. Darian’s chest heaves, fury and agony radiating off him in waves.
One healer turns, sweat beading on his brow.
“My lord,” he pants, “you need to prepare yourself. We’re losing him.”
The words hit like a blow to the gut.
Darian’s breath stops.
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move.
Just stares at his father, something breaking behind his eyes.
And all I can do is hold on to him as the world threatens to collapse around him.