Chapter 51 Stripped off his duty
DARIAN
A knock lands heavy on my door.
“Darian,” Adrian calls, sharp and unrelenting. “Open up.”
I swing it open, irritation flaring. “What?”
His eyes blaze. “What the hell did you do?”
“To who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Adira.”
I blink. “What about her?”
“She’s limping around, crying, talking about how you shoved her so hard she hit the ground. Said you screamed at her, said she’s terrified.”
“What?” My jaw tightens. “I didn’t…I didn’t shove her like that. We argued, yes. She came into my room trying to-” I stop myself. “I pushed her away, yes, but not like that.”
Adrian crosses his arms. “Well, that’s not what she’s saying. And right now? The entire damn Haven’s whispering about you.”
I step back, running a hand through my hair. “This is insane.”
He exhales sharply. “Father wants to see you. Now.”
I can already feel a headache coming along. “What did she tell him?”
He doesn’t answer. Just turns.
I follow.
The throne room feels colder than usual.
My father sits tall and rigid on his throne, the high-back chair of carved obsidian and iron catching the torchlight. Beside him, Adira’s father, Alpha Conan, stands like a storm about to break. And there she is.
Adira.
Standing between them, in a flowing silver robe that barely hides the bandage on her arm or the way she subtly shifts her weight off one foot. Her eyes are glossy, her lip trembling just enough to win pity. She's playing this perfectly.
I straighten.
“Darian.” My father’s voice is thunderous. “Step forward.”
I obey, jaw clenched.
“What I’ve heard is troubling,” he says. “Violence against your betrothed. Inexcusable conduct from a future king.”
I meet his gaze. “Father, with respect, I didn’t-”
“You pushed her?” he cuts in.
“Yes, but not…”
“She’s bruised,” Adira’s father barks. “She fell. Hit her head. Her shoulder. She has scrapes and bruises from your treatment.”
“She came into my room uninvited,” I say, voice firm. “Tried to touch me, again. I rejected her, yes, but I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
And the moment those words leave my mouth, I realize how dumb they must sound to everyone. Of course they’d think it’s okay for her to come into my room uninvited and even touch me. We’re engaged to get married.
“That makes it better?” Father’s tone sharpens. “You are to be a king. Control is not optional. Nor is respect.”
I glance at Adira. Her face is the picture of wounded virtue. A tear escapes down her cheek.
Bullshit.
“I would never harm her intentionally,” I say.
“And yet you did,” Father growls. “And you left her to cry alone while you locked yourself up in your chambers like a coward.”
“She’s lying,” I snap before I can stop myself.
“Enough!” Father’s voice booms, echoing across the chamber.
I fall silent.
He looks to Zeus, who’s leaning against a pillar nearby, arms crossed. “Effective immediately, Zeus will take over your duties. Patrols, meetings, council.”
Zeus raises an eyebrow, smug. Of course he’s enjoying this.
“You will remain confined to the estate for the week,” Father continues. “And you will keep your distance from Adira.”
“What?” I blink. “You’re grounding me?”
This has to be a joke. I’m not a fucking child.
“No,” he says coldly. “I’m teaching you discipline.”
My fists curl at my sides. This is embarrassing.
Alpha Conan doesn’t look satisfied, but he nods.
I stand there, heat rising in my chest, the air around me too heavy to breathe. I look at Adira, who refuses to meet my eyes, all innocence and sorrow. She doesn’t even have the spine to look smug.
Coward.
“Dismissed,” Father says.
I hesitate.
“Now.”
I turn, each step feeling like I’m sinking deeper into quicksand. Zeus doesn’t say a word as I pass him, but I can feel his amusement radiating like a furnace.
The moment I step into the courtyard, I rip the collar from my shirt and toss it to the ground. My fists clench and unclench, aching to connect with something, anything.
By the time I reach the training ground, I’m already shaking with adrenaline.
A few warriors are already there, sparring lazily under the morning sun. They pause when they see me coming, all murmurs and wary glances. Good. Let them move.
“Which one of you wants to get beat?” I growl.
They all go still.
I don’t wait.
I point to one. “Kael.”
He hesitates. “My prince?”
“Now.”
He gulps, then nods, dropping into position without another word. He’s smart. He knows better than to question me when I look like this.
We start. First, light. Controlled. Footwork. Swing. Counter. I block without thinking. His fist brushes past my jaw, but it’s not enough. None of this is enough.
She lied.
Adira lied to my father’s face. She limped into that room and played the victim while I stood there like some savage beast. Now Zeus has my responsibilities, my position, and I’m being punished for something I didn’t do.
My vision sharpens, and I lunge forward.
Kael blocks once, twice, but my third punch lands square in his chest. He stumbles. I don’t stop.
I spin and drive my elbow into his ribs. He wheezes, but I keep going. A sharp jab to his chin. He falls to his knees.
Someone shouts, but I barely hear it over the sound of blood rushing through my ears.
Kael coughs, his arms raised. “My prince…”
I slam my fist across his face.
He crumples.
I raise my arm again.
“Enough!” a voice booms.
I freeze mid-motion.
Zeus.
I turn, chest heaving, teeth gritted. He’s walking across the training ground, his eyes locked on mine.
“That’s not sparring,” he says coldly. “That’s a tantrum.”
“He volunteered,” I spit back, still panting. “He could’ve tapped out.”
“He did, Darian,” Zeus snaps, motioning to Kael’s bloody figure. “He did it twice.”
I glance down.
Kael’s arm is slumped by his side, his lip split, one eye swelling shut. His chest rises and falls in shallow, shaky breaths.
The guilt hits me too late.
I step back.
Zeus grabs Kael by the arm, helping him to his feet, then nods toward one of the guards. “Take him to the infirmary.”
As Kael is carried off, Zeus finally turns to me again.
“You want to hit something, brother?” he asks, peeling off his tunic and tossing it aside. “Try someone who can hit you back.”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m not the one beating up kids.”
I narrow my eyes. “You just want to rub it in, don’t you? That Father gave you my position.”
“Maybe,” Zeus replies, stepping onto the sparring mat. “But I also want to knock some damn sense into you before you destroy what little respect you have left.”
That does it.
I lunge at him.
He sidesteps, catching my shoulder and spinning me around. I barely recover before he’s already striking again.
This isn’t sparring.
This is a war between brothers.
And it’s long overdue.