Chapter 31 The bond and the burden
DARIAN
The bond is killing me.
It’s like something invisible wrapped itself around my chest and refuses to let go. Every breath, every heartbeat, it’s laced with thoughts of her. Iris. Her scent lingers in my lungs like wildfire, and even now, sitting in the dark of my room, I can still feel her. Like a whisper in the back of my mind, calling me.
I went to her room again today.
Didn’t even think. I just ended up there. I didn’t go inside, didn’t touch anything. Just stood there at her door like some sick fool, memorizing the sound of her breathing through the wood. I hate myself for it. For wanting her when I shouldn’t. For not being able to stop.
I’m promised to Adira. That’s the way it’s been written, carved into the future like stone. And I know damn well how this ends. I’ve always known. Duty comes before desire. The crown before the bond. Always.
But Iris…
There’s a knock at my door, sharp, firm. My head lifts, and I drag myself off the bed.
“Come in.”
The door opens and my father steps in, tall and commanding as ever in a dark tunic. I stand instantly, instincts hardwired from childhood.
“Why didn’t you summon me?” I ask.
He shuts the door behind him. “Because this isn’t a conversation between a king and his heir. This is from a father to his son.”
My jaw clenches. That sounds worse somehow.
He motions toward the couch. We both sit. The silence stretches until he finally speaks.
“You’re the future of our bloodline, Darian.”
I nod, already knowing where this is going.
“Everything we’ve done, every alliance, every decision, has been to ensure that your reign will be one of strength, unity, and power. Your rise must be effortless. Undeniable.”
I nod again, slower this time. I’ve heard this speech my whole life. It’s never changed.
His eyes settle on me. “Which is why I’ve noticed… a few things.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I haven’t seen you with Adira at all. Not at court dinners, not in the city, not even in the training fields. What’s going on?”
“There’s no issue,” I reply calmly. “I’ve just been busy.”
He scoffs. “You’re not that busy. Don’t insult me.”
I exhale through my nose, working hard to keep my expression neutral. But inside, I’m seething. This again.
“She’s your future wife,” he says. “The pack needs to see unity between you two. Chemistry. Trust. You can’t ignore her like she doesn’t exist.”
I nod again, slow and deliberate. But in my head, all I hear is static.
Because here’s the truth: I’m so damn tired of hearing about Adira.
About how perfect she is. About how she was handpicked. About how the pack expects her beside me. Like I’m just a pawn on the board and this is the next move I’m supposed to make.
I sit there, jaw tight, while he goes on and on, words like "legacy" and "image" scraping against my ears like metal on stone.
And I want to scream.
I want to say, “She’s not who I want.” That I’ve never looked at Adira and felt anything remotely close to what Iris does to me with just one glance. That everything in me rebels at the idea of calling Adira mine.
But I don’t.
Because that would be stupid. Dangerous.
Because it doesn’t matter what I want.
My father finally stops talking, watching me closely, like he's waiting for me to protest. I don’t.
“I’ll spend time with her,” I say, even though the words taste like ash.
He nods, satisfied. “Good. There’s too much at stake for distractions.”
Distractions.
That’s what he’d call Iris if he knew. If he had any idea.
I see him out and return to my bed the second the door closes. I sit there in the silence, hands clenched into fists on my knees.
Distraction.
She’s not a distraction. She’s the only thing that feels real.
And I’m breaking. Slowly. Surely.
I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.
My father’s voice drones on, but I hear every word like a nail to the skull.
“The announcement will be soon,” he says. “Everyone’s waiting. Our pack, her pack, the council. This is no longer something we can delay.”
I don’t say anything.
“She didn’t leave her home and come all the way from her territory just to wander the Haven halls alone. You’re supposed to be getting familiar with her. You’re supposed to show the people what a united front looks like.”
I nod slowly. Just once. The motion is stiff, automatic. Like flipping a switch inside me that no longer works properly.
“She’s a good girl, Darian. From a reputable pack. Her father is one of the most respected Alphas on the continent, and her bloodline is pure.”
The room feels like it’s shrinking around me. Like I’m being boxed in with every sentence.
“This arrangement is perfect. It's secure. It's clean. No drama, no rebellion, no scandal.”
I clench my jaw to keep from saying something I’ll regret.
Then he says it. The one thing I knew he would pull out eventually, the one thing no one in this family can argue with.
“It’s what your mother would’ve wanted.”
I go still. Completely.
And for a second, everything inside me quiets.
My mother.
He uses her name like a weapon, like a soft, silent blade meant to cut deeper than anything else he could throw at me. He knows that name will silence me better than a thousand orders. Because even in her absence, she still has more power over me than anyone alive.
I close my eyes briefly, then force them open. I nod.
A fake smile pulls at the corners of my lips, practiced and dull. “Of course,” I say. “I understand.”
My father finally stands. Walks over to me and places a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“I know this isn’t easy,” he says. “But it’s necessary. You were born for this, Darian. I need you to show up like the man you are. I need you to lead. Which means putting the personal aside and seeing the bigger picture.”
I nod again. Silent. Dead inside.
“I hope you’ll respect my words,” he says, squeezing my shoulder a bit. “And put a whole lot more effort into getting to know Adira.”
His grip tightens for a second. “Because she’s the future Luna, whether you like it or not.”
Whether you like it or not.
I give him the answer he wants. “Understood.”
He smiles. That tight, kingly smile that means he’s done talking. “Good.”
He pats my back once, then walks toward the door. Opens it. Pauses for a beat without looking back. Then he’s gone.
The moment the door clicks shut, I sink into the nearest chair like my bones can’t hold me up anymore.
The silence feels deafening.
“Whether you like it or not.”
Those words replay in my head over and over again.
And it’s not like I haven’t heard them before. This isn’t new. This is legacy. This is duty. This is what I’ve been bred for since the moment I opened my eyes in this world. I was never meant to have choices. Only orders. Traditions. Expectations.