Chapter 86 Brothers behind bars
ADRIAN
The next morning starts the way most of them do these days, quietly, tensely, and with Kelvin eating something he probably isn’t supposed to be eating on palace grounds.
“You know those are supposed to be for the infirmary, right?” I ask as he bites into a honeyed fig like it is his last meal.
He shrugs, unapologetic. “Then they should’ve hidden them better.”
I roll my eyes and push open the side gate toward the guest wing , which, for Darian, has started to feel more like a cell block than anything remotely hospitable. The guards barely look up anymore when we pass, just nod like they know we were too stubborn to stay away.
Kelvin adjusts the strap of the canvas bag slung over his shoulder. “How do you think he’s doing?”
“Worse than he’ll admit,” I mutter. “He’s been down there for days. Chained, beaten, cut off from Iris… and all we can do is bring him snacks and sarcasm.”
Kelvin offers a half-smile. “He likes sarcasm.”
“Yeah, well. It’s the only thing I’m fluent in.”
We reach the heavy wooden door. I knock twice, our usual rhythm, and waited.
“Come in,” comes Darian’s voice, hoarse but still recognizable.
Inside, the room is dim. The small, high-set window filters in dusty light that barely reach the foot of the bed. Darian sits propped against the wall, wrists still cuffed, but his posture is straighter today. Awake. Alert. Exhausted, but not defeated.
“Knock knock,” I say as we entered. “Delivery from the outside world. One bag of contraband snacks, two idiots, and an optional therapy session.”
Darian manages a faint smile. “Leave the snacks. Send the idiots back.”
Kelvin drops the bag on the side table and gives him a mock salute. “Sorry, we come as a package deal.”
“Tragic,” Darian mutters. But I see the flicker of relief in his eyes, however brief.
I pull a chair closer and drop into it with a grunt. “You look better. Still like hell, but slightly more hydrated hell.”
Darian gives a short laugh. “Thanks. I think.”
We talk nonsense for a while with Kelvin going on about how the court mages accidentally flooded the east wing with fog last night, me mocking the royal wardrobe choices, Darian throwing in dry comments whenever he wasn’t too tired to speak. It feels almost normal, which, in our family, meant nobody was actively screaming or bleeding.
But eventually, the laughter thins, and Darian’s gaze grows distant. He looks toward the small window and says, quietly, “I need to get out of here.”
Kelvin straightens. “You mean… today?”
“As soon as possible,” Darian says. “I promised her I’d come back. That I’d check in. And I haven’t. She’s alone out there, and she’s probably worried out of her mind.”
I frown. “She knows why you haven’t come, right?”
“She doesn’t know the extent of it,” he says , jaw tightening. “She doesn’t know that I’ve been made a prisoner in my own home.”
Kelvin sits on the edge of the table, arms crossed. “Then tell us where she is. We can check in. Give her a message. Something.”
Darian doesn’t answer right away.
“Why won’t you tell us?” Kelvin asks. “Do you not trust us?”
Darian looks up, meeting our eyes. “I do. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?” I asked.
He hesitates, then says, “I’m not sure how discreet you can be.”
That lands like a slap. Not cruel. Not even wrong. Just... honest.
Kelvin and I exchange a glance, and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You think we’d lead someone to her by accident.”
Darian doesn’t answer, but he didn't have to.
I sigh. “Okay. Fine. That’s fair. We haven’t exactly been subtle lately. But listen to me, if you need our help, if there’s anything we can do, you just have to say the word.”
Darian’s face softens. He nods, slowly. “I know.”
A quiet beat passes between us.
Then, right on cue, the door creaks open again, and the air in the room changes, turns colder, heavier, more... smug.
“Well,” says Zeus as he steps inside, arms folded, tone dripping with faux surprise. “Is this a private brothers’ bonding session, or can the rest of us join the therapy circle?”
I turn in my chair and give him my brightest fake smile. “Sorry, we already hit the sibling quota for the day. Try again next week.”
Zeus arches a brow. “Charming as ever, Adrian.”
“I aim to please,” I say. “Though mostly I aim to annoy you specifically.”
He steps closer, boots echoing off the stone floor. “Father’s noticed your little visits, by the way. Says you’ve been spending more time here than doing your duties.”
“Hard to focus on duties when your brother’s been beaten and locked up by his own blood,” I shoot back. “But I guess you wouldn’t understand that, being the bootlicker of the century.”
Zeus’s smile fades. “Watch yourself.”
“No thanks,” I rely. “I’ve had my fill of ‘watching myself’ while people I care about get hurt.”
Kelvin clears his throat, always the peacekeeper. “Let’s not…”
But Zeus cuts in. “I’m not here to argue. Just passing along a message.”
“Oh boy,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Let me guess. Father sends his warmest regards and a fruit basket?”
Zeus dy smile. “Father says you’re not allowed to visit Darian without explicit permission.”
The room goes still.
“He’s serious?” Kelvin asked, voice sharp.
“As death,” Zeus says. “If he finds either of you in here again without clearance, there will be consequences.”
Darian looks from Zeus to me, and I could see the flicker of panic in his eyes, not for himself, but for us. For Iris. For the plan already fraying at the edges.
Zeus turns toward the door, clearly expecting us to fall in line.
I stand up slowly, leveling him with a flat look. “You know, for someone who loves talking about loyalty, you’re awfully good at following orders that tear this family apart.”
Zeus doesn’t turn back. “I follow orders that keep the kingdom intact.”
“Funny,” I say. “Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a kingdom built on fear and silence.”
He pauses in the doorway, then glances over his shoulder. “Take it up with Father. I’m just the messenger.”
“Yeah,” I mutter as he leaves, “you always are.”
The door shuts behind him with a heavy thunk.
For a long moment, none of us speak.
Then Darian exhales slowly. “This just got harder.”
I look at him, at the thin bruises on his wrists, the tired determination in his eyes.
“Then we get smarter,” I say. “Tell us what you need. We’ll make it happen.”