Chapter 34 The weight of the crown
DARIAN
The moment I step into the Haven, something feels off.
It’s in the air. Heavy. Like tension pressed into the walls, waiting. I ignore it at first. Could be me, maybe I’m still carrying the scent of her on my skin, the feel of her in my hands, the ache of her voice still soft in my head.
But then I turn the corner into the main living room and stop.
My father is seated at the center, his posture regal and sharp, dressed in his usual black. To his left, Adrian. To his right, Zeus. And Kelvin on the couch, looking unusually alert for this early in the morning.
All three of them look at me when I walk in. And I know that this isn’t nothing. This isn’t coincidence. This is… planned.
What’s wrong?
I don’t let my face shift. Don’t blink. I straighten up and keep walking.
“Good morning,” I say, voice even.
My father’s eyes stay fixed on me as he replies, “Where have you been?”
I freeze. Just for a second. He’s never cared before. Not where I go, not what I do. Why now?
I glance at Adrian, but his face is unreadable. Zeus leans back, arms crossed. Kelvin just watches.
“Training ground,” I answer coolly, slipping my hands into my pockets.
My father tilts his head. “In that?” He gestures to my shirt, still unbuttoned at the top, my dark pants, my polished shoes.
I look down at myself. I’m not in training gear. Not even close.
“It wasn’t a session,” I say. “I needed to blow off some steam. That’s all.”
Silence stretches.
“Is the steam named Iris?”
Everything in me goes still. Ice in my veins. But on the surface calm.
“What?”
He’s watching me now. Like a hawk. His words are slower. Sharper. “Iris. The girl you marked.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I reply, clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides.
How long did you possibly think you could hide it for, Darian? My subconscious chips and I fight the urge to close my eyes and groan out loud.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Darian?”
A long pause. I could lie again. Or pretend I misheard. But there’s no point. The damage is done. He knows.
“How?” I ask, finally. “Who told you that?”
“Is it true?” he fires back.
I don’t answer.
That’s enough for him.
My father rises from the chair, slow and deliberate. He walks forward, each step making the others fade into the background.
“You’ve jeopardized everything we’ve worked for,” he says.
“I haven’t-”
“You think I don’t notice?” he snaps. “The late-night disappearances. The mood swings. The silence. You’re bonded, Darian. You’re not as sleek as you think.”
My fists clench at my sides. “This is still my life.”
“No,” he says. “This is your duty. And the girl-”
“Her name is Iris,” I cut in.
His jaw tightens. “She isn’t your future. Adira is. You knew this from the start.”
“Maybe I didn’t choose this from the start.”
“But you will choose now,” he says coldly. “Because we do not abandon alliances. We do not spit on promises. Adira’s family crossed continents for this arrangement. Her bloodline is strong. Her pack is loyal. She is your Luna.”
I say nothing. The pressure builds in my chest, slow and brutal.
“You think this is about you,” he continues. “But it’s about all of us. The future. The crown. The balance we’ve maintained for decades.”
“And Iris threatens that?” I ask, voice low.
“She’s a risk,” he says. “A distraction. A weakness.”
“She’s not weak.”
“But she makes you weak.”
That lands hard. Because maybe it’s true. Maybe I am weak when she’s near. But I also feel more alive than I ever have.
“I’m handling it,” I say.
“Handling it means staying away from her. Ending it.”
There’s silence again. My heart pounds.
He steps closer. Places a firm hand on my shoulder. “I need to know you understand what’s at stake.”
“I do.”
“Then act like it.”
I nod once.
His hand tightens around my shoulder, firm, commanding, and then he speaks, voice low but cutting.
“The wedding with Adira will be pushed forward.”
My stomach drops.
“What?” I step back, blinking. “Why?”
My father doesn’t flinch. “Because clearly, you need a reminder of your responsibilities.”
“You can’t be serious-”
“I’m completely serious,” he says, rising from his seat. “You’ve had your fun, Darian. But the line between personal indulgence and political ruin is far thinner than you think, and you’ve just crossed it.”
“I didn’t-”
“You did.” His tone sharpens like a blade. “You marked her. You bonded with her. A girl who is not of royal blood, not of alliance, not even a goddamn warrior. A nobody.”
“Iris isn’t-”
“I don’t care what her name is!” he snaps.
I swallow hard.
The silence that follows is absolute. Zeus shifts behind him but says nothing. Kelvin stares at the ground. Adrian… Adrian watches me with something close to regret in his eyes.
My father steps forward, his voice low and venomous. “You’re the heir to this kingdom. And you think you get to choose who you bond with? That’s not how this works. You were raised better.”
I clench my jaw. My fists curl at my sides.
He leans in. “If I see you breathing near that girl, if I even smell her on you, you’ll wish all I did was speed up your marriage.”
I glare back at him. “So what? You’re punishing me with a wedding?”
“I’m reminding you who you are.”
“I didn’t ask to be born into this-”
“Neither did I!” he roars, and the room stills again. “But we carry it. You don’t get to fall apart over a bond. You manage it. You bury it.”
My chest tightens.
“I’m disappointed in you,” he says finally, his voice cold now, almost distant. “All these years of grooming, and this is how you prove your worth?”
His words don’t just land, they carve. Deep.
“You will not see her again. You will stay beside Adira, you will strengthen that bond, and you will put the name of this house above your own desires. Is that understood?”
I don’t answer.
He turns his back to me. “Zeus. Kelvin.”
They rise without hesitation. Zeus throws me a glance, unreadable, distant. Kelvin follows behind, quiet as ever.
Adrian stays frozen in place. He glances my way, jaw tense, eyes flicking over my face like he wants to say something, but then he turns and walks away in the opposite direction.
The door shuts.
I’m left in the silence.
And all I can hear is my father’s voice, laced with disappointment , sharp and final, echoing in my skull.