Chapter 92 The night he stayed
IRIS
The dining room is quiet now, save for the soft clink of silverware and Nana’s gentle footsteps as she retrieves the last dishes. Candles flicker in low light, casting warm shadows across faces lined with fatigue, and worry.
Adrian leans back, loosening his collar. Kelvin pushes his chair in, glancing at Darian with concern. I sit closest to him, watching every subtle shift, the way he winces when straightening and the way his eyes flick toward the hall.
I clear my throat. “Thank you, Nana. This was… perfect.” My voice cracks slightly, but steadies.
Nana smiles, brushing a strand of gray hair back. “You all earned it.”
Adrian grins and tilts his cup at me. “Strong words, Lady Nana. We did the minimum.” Laughter ripples through the room, easing the weight a little.
Kelvin leans in. “Minimum or not, Darian is barely standing. He needs rest more than jokes.”
I chime in, softly. “He can rest soon. But tonight, stay here with me.”
Darian turns, blinking at me. I’m sure my cheeks are flaming. I feel the tension, sweet and agonizing as all eyes shift toward us.
Adrian coughs, exaggerated. “Hmm? Did I just hear the princess issuing room orders?”
Kelvin snorts beside him. “Better obey, Darian. It’s safer in her quarters than in a dungeon.”
Darian slants me a small smile, though faint. He looks like he might argue, but fatigue wins. “If you want me to,” he says quietly.
I exhale, relief flooding me. “Please.”
Adrian gives me a mocking bow. “What’s mine is hers, or so the lady commands tonight.”
Kelvin claps once, both teasing and supportive. “Lead the way then.”
Nana calls from the kitchen door, “Iris dear, don’t stay up too late. Let him rest.”
I nod, voice gentle. “We will, Nana. Thank you.”
She gathers her pots and steps out, leaving us in the candlelit room.
I stand, moving carefully to Darian’s side. Adrian stands as well, pulling a chair back. “We’ll clear,” he murmurs, voice half‑grin. “Let them have their moment.”
Kelvin stands too, but lingers near the door. “Let me know if you need help.”
I press my hand gently to Darian’s arm. He meets my eyes; pain and gratitude there.
We walk toward the staircase. The hall is quiet, only our footsteps echoing. The teasing stops, replaced by soft intimacy. It’s like everyone knows, we’re slipping into a quieter world for a few blessed hours.
Adrian whispers from behind, “Try not to collapse before we tickle you awake at dawn.” I choke on my laugh.
Kelvin smirks. “Iris, hold him steady. I’ll bring you both extra blankets.”
We reach my room. The door is open, light spilling into the hallway. I lead Darian gently inside, helping him sit on the edge of the bed.
I step in after, closing the door softly behind us. The others’ voices fade, muffled laughter and quiet footfalls.
He looks at me, pain in his eyes, but something softer now and akin trust, relief.
I breach the hush. “You should stay here tonight. In my room. With me.”
He studies me, a war behind his gaze. Then nods. “Alright.”
I reach for his hand, brushing fingers. It’s shaky, but real.
We settle into the quiet dark of the room. Outside, the laughter echoes faintly — Adrian’s jokes, Kelvin’s soft chuckles, Nana closing kitchen doors.
I slide close to him on the bed. He leans into me, weak but present. My heart feels so full I fear it might burst.
A single tear slips down my cheek before I even know it’s coming.
Darian reaches for me immediately, his thumb brushing the wet trail away. His fingers pause at my jaw, trembling slightly.
“Oh God,” he breathes. “Why are you crying?”
My voice comes out low, cracked. “Because I haven’t seen you in days… and when I finally do, you’re like this.”
He doesn’t respond with words. Just looks at me like he’s anchoring himself to the sight of me. Then he leans in, his forehead pressing gently against mine, his breath warm on my skin.
And then he kisses me.
It starts soft, careful, like we’re remembering each other. But it deepens quickly. His lips press harder into mine, and I return it with equal urgency.
I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging lightly. He groans and brings his good arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
The kiss turns hungry. His mouth parts, and I answer instinctively. It’s fast, desperate, like we’re both trying to escape everything else through each other and drown in each other at the same time.
My hand slides down his chest, tracing the fabric of his shirt, fingers catching slightly on the bandages beneath. Still, I keep going, needing to feel him, to make sure he’s real.
He shifts, welcoming the contact, and I push my leg gently between his, brushing along his thigh. His breath hitches.
His hand slips under my shirt, just barely touching the skin at my waist and that’s when it happens.
My fingers press lower and he jolts.
He breaks the kiss with a hiss. “Shit.”
I pull back, wide-eyed, heart pounding. “Oh my God, Darian. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…”
His eyes are closed tight, jaw clenched. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” I whisper, cupping his cheek. “I forgot. I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”
He catches my wrist lightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
But I can’t look at the pain written all over his face and pretend.
“I think…” I say, exhaling, “we should just sleep. Rest. You need it.”
He nods, reluctant but trusting.
I help him shift back onto the bed, careful not to tug on his injured side. Once he’s settled, I crawl in beside him, tucking the blanket around us.
I rest my head on his good shoulder. His arm drapes over me, warm, secure.