Chapter 62 The King’s offer
DARIAN
I weave through the corridors of the Haven, cloak brushing the cold stone walls. My boots echoing as I try to silence everything; his prophecy, Iris, father’s words—just push them all into the recesses of my mind.
Then I hear them.
“Darian! Wait!”
It’s Adrian’s voice, low but urgent. Kelvin’s footsteps follow. I don’t stop. I keep walking.
“Are you okay?” Adrian calls from behind.
I glance over my shoulder, brows raised. Adrian’s hands lift in mock surrender, eyes wide. He knows I don’t want this. Kelvin lags a few paces behind, tense.
“Adrian,” I say sharply. “Kelvin.”
They stop at the turn that leads to my room. I keep going.
Adrian steps to block me. “Talk to us.”
I don’t.
I push past them and reach my door, slipping inside.
I slam the door of my room so hard the hinges groan. Bits of wood as old as memories twitter in the wind from the crack. Heart pounding, hands shaking, I brush past the splintered chair I just threw, marshaling every ounce of anger burning beneath my skin.
Footsteps pound behind me, Adrian’s first, Kelvin’s next, but I don’t slow. I want the world to feel this jerk in space when I move, this pull. I want people to notice I’m breaking something.
I rip open my desk drawer, pulling scrolls, orders, parchments, tossing them to the floor in a burst. Confetti of failure, the things I was supposed to protect. Ink jars roll, pens tumble. I catch a map and rip it along a river’s painted bend. The paper shrieks with the tear.
A dull ache blossoms in my hands. I don’t care.
“Darian!” Kelvin’s voice cuts through the wreck. Gentle, worried.
I spin. Chest heaving. Fingers stained with ink and dust. “Don’t.” My voice is a whip.
Kelvin steps in. “Please. Just breathe, man.”
Something in him looks torn. I hate that look.
Adrian careens in, face angry, eyes wild. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? Look at this room! Everything’s scattered like your mind is too!”
“You don’t get it!” I roar. “Get out!”
Adrian backs up a fraction, hurt and disbelief clear in his stance. “Try me,” he says low. “Because I’m listening right now!”
“I’m losing everything!” It bursts out of me. Rage, fear, and grief all lump together. “My crown, my duty, Iris and now, my father talks about some godforsaken prophecy. It’s all piled up, and it’s overwhelming.”
Kelvin’s shoulders slump. He steps closer. “Calm down then, none of this is going to solve your issues. .”
I freeze, hands curled into claws. I glare at him. Adrenaline buzzes in my veins. Emotions too heavy to name.
“This prophecy hanging like a guillotine. You think I wish my life was simpler?”
Adrian swallows. Face tight. “No, But you keep acting like tearing everything around you down will fix it.”
I laugh, bitter and sharp. “Fix it? Maybe nothing will fix it. But leaving her, obeying Father, letting the prophecy decide my choices, that's not living, Adrian. And I’m not going to sit on my hands and do that.”
Silence. Kelvin leans against the wall, breathing shallow. Adrian rubs his neck, his eyes flicker between me and the mess.
“Is Iris worth all of this?” Adrian asks quietly. Not a challenge, his voice holds something akin to a plea. “Because... because I want to believe so.”
I snag a fallen scroll, hold it like a shield. “Yes. She’s everything.”
Adrian’s face softens with relief, then crinkles with worry. “Then, for her, you need to be whole. Not in pieces.”
Kelvin nods. “She deserves that much.”
Adrian steps forward. “And maybe you don’t have to figure it out alone.”
I drop the scroll. Dust rises. I swallow hard, my soul feels raw. “I’m tired of fighting my father’s expectations. I’m tired of being seen only as the Prince who might destroy everything. I want to be seen as someone who loves, who cares, who protects and who doesn’t cave to fate.”
Kelvin crosses the room, touches my shoulder. “You are that. We know it.”
Adrian’s eyes shine. “I won’t pretend you’re not risking everything. Kingdom. Family. But maybe risking is better than letting fear rule you.”
I step back, paced, uneven breaths. “I want that. I want you both to believe in me.”
Adrian closes the distance enough to reach for my hand, but I pull away, sudden shame glowing hot. “Not now.” My voice cracked. I clutch my own shoulder instead.
Kelvin shifts more quietly. Adrian lowers his hand, betrayal or understanding, I’m not certain which.
A minute passes like hours. I lean against the wall, sliding down until I’m half‑seated, paper littered around me. My chest hurts because breathing feels like effort.
Adrian kneels, picks up a torn map piece, smooths it against his knee.
I look at him, at Kelvin, at the shredded papers that once held my plans. The prophecy still looms. The threat still weighs heavily. But I don’t feel alone.
“Go,” I say. “Both of you. I need a few minutes.”
Adrian and Kelvin exchange glances. Adrian looks like he wants to argue. Kelvin looks like he wants to stay. But both rise. Adrian gives me a clenched nod.
“Don’t shut us out,” he warns. “We’re not done.”
“I won’t,” I mutter. But I don’t sound sure.
As the door closes behind them, I slump to the floor. Hide my face in my knees, wrapped in my cloak. The room is cold. The shadows stretch.
I taste bitterness. Fear. Determination.
Because this isn’t just about fate anymore. It’s about who I choose to be.