Chapter 35 Chains of the crown
DARIAN
The corridor stretches ahead. My steps echo, quick and sharp. My father’s voice is still in my head, grilling, probing, too damn close to the truth. Iris’s name. His eyes. He knows. Somehow, he knows.
I lied to him. Told him I was at the training grounds early this morning. I wasn’t.
The memory of her warmth, her scent, lingers, both a comfort and a torment.
As I approach my study, the familiar scent of aged parchment and ink wafts through the air. I reach for the door handle, the cool metal grounding me momentarily. But then, footsteps. Soft, deliberate, approaching from behind.
I turn, heart pounding. Adrian stands a few paces away, his expression unreadable.
"Adrian," I say, my voice steady.
He nods, stepping closer. "You okay?"
I offer a curt nod, turning back to the door. "Just tired."
But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he follows me into the study and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. The sound feels louder than it should.
I don’t turn around. The tension clings to my skin like heat.
“You’re mad,” Adrian says simply.
I don’t respond. I move to the window, staring out into the night. My reflection catches in the glass, tight jaw, eyes darker than they should be. I don’t recognize myself anymore.
He tries again. “Something’s bothering you. You’ve barely looked at me since we left his office.”
I turn, arms crossed, tone cold. “Did you tell him?”
Adrian blinks. “Tell who what?”
“Father.” I take a slow step forward. “Did you tell him about Iris?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then: “No.” His answer is fast, too fast maybe, but his eyes hold steady.
My chest tightens. “You’re the only person I told, Adrian. The only one who knew.”
“And I didn’t say a word.” His voice is calmer than I expected. Like he’s trying to defuse me. “You think I want our father sniffing around your business? Around hers?”
I glare at him. “Then how does he know her name? How does he know anything about her?”
Adrian’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting frustration. “He’s the king, Darian. He probably has people watching every damn hallway. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”
I move closer. “No. No, don’t do that. Don’t shift the blame. He said her name, Adrian. Iris. He didn’t just suspect something. He knows.”
Adrian folds his arms, jaw tight. “And I told you, I didn’t tell him.”
“You were right there when he brought her up,” I snap. “You didn’t even look surprised.”
“Because I’m used to him knowing things he shouldn’t!” Adrian bites back. “Do you think you’re the only one he watches?”
I stare at him, breathing hard. “I trusted you.”
“And I haven’t broken that trust,” he says through gritted teeth. “But you’re looking at me like I stabbed you in the back.”
“Because I don’t know who else it could be!” I shout.
His face hardens. “You sure it’s not you? Sneaking off. Leaving trails. You think nobody’s picked up on that scent that clings to you for hours after you visit her?”
I freeze.
“Yeah,” Adrian continues, voice low now, angrier. “You’re not being as discreet as you think.”
My fists curl. “You don’t get to blame me. I didn’t bring this down on myself.”
“Didn’t you?” His voice rises now, tone sharp. “You’re the one juggling a secret bond with a girl you can’t have while parading around with Adira like she’s your queen-in-waiting.”
I close the gap between us. “Watch your mouth.”
He laughs bitterly. “Or what? You’ll punch me? Go ahead.”
The air is electric now, thick with tension and rage.
We’re breathing like we just came out of a fight, and honestly, we’re two seconds from one.
But instead of hitting him, I back off, shaking my head.
“I told you because I thought you’d understand,” I mutter.
“I do,” Adrian says, voice softer now. “But this? Accusing me? That’s not understanding. That’s desperation.”
I look away, jaw clenched, trying to rein in the storm brewing inside me. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.
"You're not the only one carrying weight, Darian," Adrian says, his voice quieter now, but no less firm.
I turn back to him, eyes narrowed. "Then maybe you should start sharing the load instead of adding to it."
He steps closer, the tension between us, thick like fog. "I'm not your enemy."
"Then stop acting like one," I snap.
Adrian's eyes flash with something; hurt? Anger? It's hard to tell. He takes a deep breath, then speaks slowly. "I get it. You feel betrayed. But pushing me away won't help."
"I trusted you," I say, voice low. "And now I can't even look at you without wondering if you're the reason he knows, wondering if you stabbed me in the back and why you possibly would.."
He shakes his head, frustration evident. "Believe what you want. But I won't stand here and be your scapegoat."
I step back, the distance between us growing. The room feels colder now, the weight of our argument settling heavily.
Adrian turns to leave, pausing at the door. "When you're ready to talk without pointing fingers, you know where to find me."
The door closes behind him, and something inside me snaps.
Anger surges like a violent wave, hot, unrelenting, primal.
I slam my fist into the nearest bookshelf. The wood groans under the force, a few books tumbling to the floor.
Not enough.
I whirl around, grip the edge of my desk, and shove everything off it in one brutal sweep. Papers, crystal decanter, glass tumbler, everything crashes to the floor in a chaotic heap. The sound is loud, satisfying in a sick kind of way.
Still not enough.
I grab the chair and throw it against the wall. It splinters on impact.
My breathing is loud now, ragged, like I’ve been running for miles. My chest heaves, the bond roaring under my skin. My wolf claws just beneath the surface, wanting out, wanting her.
How much more fucking worse does it get?
I brace both hands on the edge of the desk, head bowed, trying to find my center in the middle of this storm. My fingers curl tight into the wood.
Adrian.
My father.
Iris.
Too many threads. Too many voices. Too many decisions I never asked to carry.
I squeeze my eyes shut, jaw clenched until it aches.
When I finally open them, the room is wrecked—but it’s quieter.
For now.