Chapter 73 Iris or the crown
DARIAN
I step through the gates of the Haven, the heavy doors closing behind me with a dull thud. The courtyard is silent except for distant guards shifting. I taste something bitter in the air, anticipation and dread.
As I round the corner to the living area, I slow. The doors are open. Everybody is there, Zeus, Adrian, Kelvin, ADIRA and her father, and of course, the Lycan king. They stand rigid, watching. And at the far end, my father sits in a high-backed chair, his back turned to me as though guarding some secret.
I pause, my heart thundering. My mind races: did Zeus betray me? Did word get out? Did they send spies? A flash of anger snakes through me.
I mean, I wouldn’t expect anything less from Zeus. I’m pretty sure he let me in on their plan to kill Iris not out of the goodness of his heart, but definitely because he has something to gain from it.
I take a measured breath and walk forward. I don’t allow my face to betray anything.
All heads turn. Silence contracts like a held breath.
I stop a few paces in front of him. “What’s wrong?” My voice echoes off stone walls.
Father’s chair creaks as he leans forward. The air between us crackles. He doesn’t turn yet. “Cut the small talk, Darian,” he says, voice low but firm. “Tell me, where have you taken Iris?”
I raise my chin, refusing to flinch. My voice, when I speak, carries like thunder: “I don’t know where Iris is. I haven’t seen her since we parted. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The room shifts. A few gasps ripple from the audience in the room. My father’s shoulders stiffen.
He turns his head slowly to face me. His eyes are ice. “Liar,” he says, every syllable sharp. “Ever since that girl came into your life, you’ve disobeyed orders. You lie. You hide. You run from duty.”
I stand straighter, my heart slamming in my throat. I refuse to bend. “Is that why you want to kill her?” I demand.
Father’s eyes flare. The room crackles with tension. “Yes,” he says, flat. “That is exactly why. She appeared from heaven knows where, without sanction, and everything she touches unravels protocol. She is a threat to our stability. And you, by defending her, are a threat to the throne.”
A cold wind of betrayal sweeps me. I swallow.
“Then you admit it,” I say, voice trembling with rage and hurt. “You admit you seek her death.”
“Yes,” Father says again, not flinching. “Because to us, she is chaos incarnate. And you…” he gestures broadly, as though labeling me the chaos. “you have chosen chaos over order.”
A silence drops, heavy as stone. I feel all eyes on me, waiting for my collapse, my concession, some sign that I yield.
But I don’t yield.
I step forward. “If you believe I have betrayed my duty, then do what you must, ” I pause, steel in my eyes. “but I don’t know where she is.” My voice resonates, firm, resonant. The walls seem to listen.
A rustle behind me alerts me; Zeus, Adira, other siblings standing at the perimeter like guardians or specters. Their faces unreadable.
Father’s lips curl. “You always speak so boldly. But words don’t shield you from consequences.”
I swallow. “Consequences may come. But I’d rather face them than live a lie.”
He raises his voice again. “For the last time, Darian, tell me where you’ve taken her.”
I stare straight into his eyes. “I told you. I don’t know.”
Silence.
Then, my father sighs, not with weariness, but with resolve. “Very well.”
He claps once.
The doors behind me open, and two soldiers walk in. My gut tightens.
They’re holding discipline rods, ceremonial weapons of punishment, rarely used on royals.
My shoulders tense as they approach. My brothers step forward, but one look from our father freezes them in place.
“What is this?” I ask.
“If you won’t speak,” my father says, voice calm and cruel, “you’ll face the consequences.”
The soldiers grab me by the arms. I don’t resist, not yet, but my muscles are coiled like springs. My knees are kicked out from under me, and I land hard on the stone floor. Gasps echo around us.
“Father!” Adrian shouts, but the king silences him with a glare.
“You will not interfere,” he growls.
Kelvin looks away. I can see the guilt on his face.
I turn back to my father, breathing hard. “So this is it. You’d humiliate your own son in front of everybody?”
“I’d do worse to protect this kingdom.”
One of the soldiers steps forward, raising his rod.
“Remove his shirt,” my father orders.
I shake my head, biting down hard against the rage building in my chest. “You’re crossing a line.”
“And you crossed it first,” he replies.
The soldier hesitates , just for a second. Then he grabs the hem of my shirt, but I shove his hand away.
“No need,” I say, and I yank the fabric over my head myself. My skin meets the cold air, marked by old scars and new tension.
The soldier raises the rod again, and I brace myself.
The crack of air comes first, the first hit against my skin syncs with the gaps that echoes through the room and dam, it stings.
Two soldiers, going back and forth at it, taking turns as they slam the rods into my bare back.
The pain is excruciating but I wouldn’t tell them where Iris is. Never.
Adrian steps forward. “Enough!”
My father’s eyes cut to him.
“He’s your son,” Adrian continues, voice trembling. “If you go through with this, you’re not trying to protect the crown, you’re trying to break it.”
The room stills.
I look up at my father. “Hurt me. But it won’t change a damn thing.”
There’s silence. A long, stretching silence where no one moves, no one breathes.
Then, my father lowers his hand. “Lock him in his quarters,” he commands the guards. “Let him think about where his loyalties truly lie.”
I exhale , slow, steady, as the guards pull me to my feet. My back burns with tension and psin.
As I’m dragged from the room, I catch one last look at my father.
He’s already turned away.
Like I was never his son at all.