Chapter 161 The queen before the crown
IRIS
The room smells faintly of lavender and polished wood, mixed with the subtle metallic tang of my jewelry.
My fingers graze the smooth fabric of my gown, heavy and rich with golden embroidery, the silk brushing softly against my skin. Servants bustle quietly around me, adjusting folds of fabric, sliding delicate bracelets up my wrists, fastening the clasp of my necklace with careful precision.
The jewels glint faintly in the morning sunlight, scattered across the polished marble floor and catching in my eyes as I shift.
I sink into the chair near the vanity, letting them work.
My hair is swept back into a simple, elegant braid, twisted with silver ribbons that gleam faintly like threads of moonlight. The makeup is minimal—just enough to highlight the warmth in my cheeks and the green in my eyes—but I watch every stroke, every brush, with a quiet fascination. This is the life I never imagined for myself, and yet, sitting here, feeling the weight of silk, the pull of jewels, the steady presence of the women tending to me, I understand what it means to be queen.
It is not just power; it is responsibility, yes, but also a kind of calm, a deep knowledge that the people look to you not just for orders, but for guidance, for hope.
I breathe in slowly, eyes closing for a moment as a servant arranges the last curl of hair at the nape of my neck. My fingers trail over the soft silk of my gown again.
The bodice is firm but comfortable, the golden embroidery forming a subtle pattern of intertwined wolves and vines. I like it. I like that it feels regal without being suffocating. I like that it reminds me of who I am, even as it reminds me of who I am meant to be. My gaze drifts to the small crown on the vanity, simple now that the coronation has passed.
I won’t need it today, but its presence is a reminder that everything we fought for—the blood, the danger, the betrayals—has led to this moment.
A soft knock on the door makes me look up. Before anyone speaks, Daisy bursts into the room, spinning slightly, her long chestnut hair bouncing around her shoulders. She is dressed in a deep sapphire gown, cinched at the waist, its skirt sweeping elegantly across the floor. Her hair is braided loosely on one side, small silver pins keeping the strands in place, and her eyes shine brighter than any jewel in the room.
“Oh goddess, Iris, you look… you look amazing!” she gasps, her voice full of excitement. She steps closer, clasping her hands together, then flings them apart as if she can’t contain herself. “I can hardly stand it. You’re going to glow tonight. I can already see it.”
I laugh softly, the tension in my shoulders easing a little at her energy. “I’m trying to,” I admit, gesturing to the gown and the jewelry. “These things aren’t usually my style, but… I kind of like it.”
“You like it? You’re radiant,” Daisy insists, stepping closer and tilting my chin up with gentle fingers. “No one can argue with that. Honestly, I think the jewels were made for you. The crown of light itself would be jealous.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s a bit dramatic, even for you.”
She doesn’t hear me. “And I have news,” she blurts, eyes sparkling. “Adrian made it official.”
I raise an eyebrow, curious despite myself. “Official?”
Daisy throws herself onto the edge of the chair beside me, leaning close as if she’s about to reveal a secret of the gods. “He asked me to be his. Fully. No more games, no more teasing around. We’re… together. Properly. He’s mine, and I’m his. And I’m so happy, Iris, I can hardly—” She pauses, breaking into a small squeal, covering her mouth with her hand.
I grin softly, feeling a warm pulse of happiness at her joy. “That’s… wonderful, Daisy. I’m so happy for you.”
Her eyes widen. “Of course, you are! I know it! But oh my goddess, I had to tell someone before the celebration. Before Darian drags you away. He’s going to be here soon, isn’t he?”
I nod, fingers brushing lightly over the embroidery of my gown. “He should be,” I say quietly, my heart thudding in my chest. A thousand thoughts swirl in my mind—their eyes meeting, the anticipation of the announcement, the joy of knowing we’re about to celebrate not just our kingdom, but our future.
Daisy leans back slightly, still clutching my hand. “Iris, you’re glowing.” Her voice is softer now, almost reverent, and I feel a flush rise to my cheeks. “It’s not just the dress. It’s you. It’s everything. You’re… ugh.”
I inhale, trying to steady my racing heart. “It’s… a lot,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m nervous, I suppose. Excited. But I want it to be… perfect. For Darian, for everyone.”
“You’ll be perfect,” Daisy says firmly, squeezing my hand. “And don’t you forget it. He’s going to lose himself when he sees you. You know it.”
I can’t help but smile at her certainty. “I hope so,” I murmur.
We settle into a comfortable silence, the soft rustle of silk and the quiet movements of the servants the only sounds. I watch my reflection in the mirror, noting the way the sunlight catches the golden embroidery on my bodice, the way the silver of my jewelry shines against the softness of my skin.
I feel the weight of my crownless authority, the quiet knowledge that this moment, this calm before the celebration, is mine to savor. And then Daisy’s voice cuts through my thoughts again.
“And Adrian…” she begins, leaning in conspiratorially, “he’s very serious. He said he’s never felt this way about anyone. Ever. Can you imagine? That’s my Adrian.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “I can’t argue with that. He’s a good man. And you… you deserve this.”
Her eyes glint mischievously. “And you… you have Darian. The king. Your mate. My goddess, Iris, don’t tell me you’re nervous. You should be thrilled.”
“I am thrilled,” I whisper, though the word feels too small for the way my chest feels. “It’s… overwhelming, in the best way.”
She grins, as if she’s been waiting for me to say it. “Good. Then we’ll let you enjoy it. But before you go, promise me one thing.”
“Anything,” I reply, curious.
“Promise me you’ll savor every moment. Tonight isn’t just about the kingdom. It’s about us. About you and Darian. About… everything we’ve survived to get here.”
I squeeze her hand in return. “I promise.”
A few moments later, the door opens softly, and the guards announce his arrival.
The room reacts instantly.
The servants bow so quickly their skirts whisper against the floor, heads lowered. Even Daisy stands, smoothing her gown with trembling hands, though a poorly suppressed squeal escapes her when she hears his name spoken with that formal reverence.
My heart gives a strange, slow twist in my chest.
Then Darian steps inside.
He fills the doorway without trying—broad shoulders framed by the deep, obsidian coat he only wears on ceremonial days, the dark fabric fitted perfectly around his form, silver accents catching the light like starfire. His hair has been brushed back, neat but still rebellious at the edges. His eyes—goddess, those eyes—find me immediately, as if nothing else in this room exists.
I feel my breath leave me in a quiet rush.
Daisy mutters under her breath, “Yep. He’s definitely going to combust.”
I resist the urge to elbow her.
Darian steps forward with a measured, almost reverent pace, and the air seems to shift around him—warm and quiet and full of purpose. Everyone remains bowed, waiting… but his gaze stays locked on me. Only me.
“Iris,” he says, and my name sounds softer from him than from anyone else in the world.
I rise from my chair, hands smoothing my gown automatically though I hardly notice the movement. My pulse is a drumbeat beneath my skin. He takes in the sight of me with a slow, sweeping gaze—my dress, my hair, the jewelry, the braid, the silk—and something hungry flickers behind his calm expression before he tamps it down for the sake of propriety.
But I see it.
And my cheeks warm.
“You may rise,” he says quietly, finally addressing the servants.
They obey, stepping back respectfully, heads lowered. Daisy gives a small curtsy before she shoots me a grin so wide it might split her face. Then she gracefully, well, as gracefully as Daisy can, steps aside to give us space.
Darian stops a foot away from me, close enough for me to feel his warmth, to smell the clean, spicy scent of him. His eyes soften further.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
The question is simple. But the weight beneath it is not.
I nod. “I am.”
His hand lifts, slow and almost hesitant, as though he’s touching something sacred. When his palm rests lightly at my waist, I inhale, feeling the warmth spread through my entire body. The room seems to shrink to just us.
He leans in, bending so his lips are near my ear, his voice soft enough that only I can hear it.
“You’re glowing,” he whispers.
The words send a shiver down my spine—sweet, intimate, full of awe rather than desire. Yet his fingertips flex slightly against my waist, betraying how deeply the sight affects him.
A quiet breath escapes me. “You think so?”
His lips graze the shell of my ear—not a kiss, just the warmth of his breath—but it flusters me more than anything. “I know so.”
Behind us, Daisy lets out a muffled, triumphant “Ha!” like she just won an argument with no one in particular.
I bite back a laugh.
Darian straightens, but his hand stays at my waist, his touch both protective and reverent. His expression shifts, softening around the edges as he studies me again, slower this time, like he’s memorizing every detail to keep for himself.
“You look…” He pauses, chest rising with a breath. “Beautiful feels like too small a word.”
My lips part slightly. “You don’t have to flatter me.”
His gaze dips to my mouth for a heartbeat before returning to my eyes. “I’m not flattering you.” His voice quiets, turning rough, sincere. “You’re my queen.”
The words hit deeper than I expect. Not because of the title, but because of how he says it. Like it’s a truth he holds carefully, like he still can’t believe it’s real.
Daisy fans herself dramatically from across the room. “I’m going to die here, right now. Just bury me in this dress.”
I shoot her a look. She just shrugs innocently, grinning.
Darian’s lips twitch with a rare, silent chuckle, but he doesn’t take his attention off me. “We should go,” he murmurs gently. “They’re waiting.”
I inhale slowly. My nerves rise again, but excitement rushes with it, smoothing the edges of fear. I’m not stepping into that hall alone. I never will be again.
“Alright,” I say softly.
Darian’s hand slides from my waist to my lower back, steady and warm, guiding me with the subtleness of instinct rather than authority. The gesture makes my breath catch in the back of my throat. There’s nothing possessive about it… yet I feel completely claimed.
Daisy clasps her hands under her chin, beaming. “I’ll see you out there! And Iris, don’t trip. Please. I will literally fling myself across the floor if I have to catch you.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Darian deadpans without glancing back.
Daisy gasps in mock offense. “I’m a delight and you know it.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “I’ll be fine.”
She winks. “You had better.”
Her confidence settles something inside me.
Darian opens the door, but before he steps through, he turns slightly, eyes flicking to mine. He waits. Always waits. He would never pull me before I’m ready.
That tiny gesture, more than any crown or title or ceremony, reminds me who he truly is beneath the king.
I take a breath.
Lift my chin.
And place my hand in his.
The moment I do, his face softens completely. His thumb brushes the back of my hand with a slow, grounding sweep, his other hand still pressed at the small of my back, a touch meant to steady, to guide, to claim, but gently, reverently.