Chapter 95 The rejected Queen
ADIRA
I walk through the stone corridors of the Haven, the faint echo of my shoes blending with the murmur of voices ahead. Two servants stand near the archway, their heads bent close, whispering with an unmistakable tone of scorn. My blood boils as I catch fragments of their words.
“Darian actually took a beating... just to avoid marrying that girl,” one servant snickers, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with venom.
“The future Lycan queen?” the other scoffs. “More like future embarrassment. Can you imagine how bad it must be for him to run?”
“He didn’t even flinch when they chained him,” the first adds. “But marry her? He disappears like a ghost.”
They giggle.
“I’d take the beating too,” the second says with a laugh. “Better bruises than a lifetime with her.”
My blood turns to ice.
Her. That girl.
Me.
The name they dare mock with such ease, twisted into a joke, spat like something rotten.
I don’t stop to think. I storm forward, each step deliberate. The coldness of the marble beneath my feet matches the fire clawing through my chest.
Their laughter dies the second they see me.
Perfect.
I don’t hesitate. I step forward and slap the first one, hard across the cheek. Her head jerks sideways with the force. Before the second has a chance to flinch away, I land another slap, clean, sharp and unforgiving.
They both gasp, reeling from the shock more than the pain.
“You think this is a joke?” I hiss, voice low but deadly. “I am your future queen, and you’re standing in the halls of this estate laughing like common whores in a tavern.”
They drop to their knees instantly, trembling. One dares to open her mouth to protest, but I raise my hand again, and she thinks better of it.
“Apologize,” I demand.
“We’re sorry, Lady Adira,” they mutter in unison, heads bowed.
“Louder,” I snap.
“We’re sorry, Lady Adira!”
I sneer at the desperation in their voices. “Not sorry enough.”
I raise my foot and drive it into the ribs of the first girl. She gasps, crumpling to the side, clutching her stomach. I don’t even blink.
The second one is shaking now, nearly in tears.
Pathetic.
I turn away from them with a flick of my wrist. “Get out of my sight. And if I ever hear my name in your mouths again, I’ll have them sewn shut.”
Their hurried, scrambling footsteps echo down the hall as I stride away, each step pulsing with rage. I don’t care where they run to. Let them cry. Let them bleed. Let them fear me.
Because fear is power.
And right now, I need all the power I can gather.
I slam the door shut behind me and lean against it, heart thundering.
The fury still hums beneath my skin, but deeper than that, something colder, something tighter settles into my chest.
He took a beating.
Darian let himself be beaten, imprisoned even to avoid marrying me. And now he’s gone. Vanished like a coward into the wild with her.
I cross the room and rip the emerald pins from my hair, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. The reflection in my mirror taunts me, flawless skin, regal poise, the features of a queen. And yet, discarded. Rejected. Made a laughingstock by a mere servant.
I’ve spent my life preparing to wear that crown beside him.
Now? I’m a footnote in haven gossip.
I shove a glass perfume bottle off the dresser. It shatters beautifully.
They’ll say he left for love. For some tragic, noble reason. But no one talks about what this means for me.
If Darian refuses the throne, the next in line is Zeus. And if Zeus is crowned king, I’m nothing.
No title. No seat. No power.
And Iris will have all of it.
I dig my nails into the polished edge of the vanity.
No. I won’t let that happen.
If Darian wants to burn it all down for her, then I’ll make sure she goes up in the fire first.
He won’t protect her forever.
I just need one weak link. One name. One path to her.
And I think I know exactly who’ll give it to me.
Kelvin.
He always is too soft.
Too guilt-ridden.
And right now? That makes him the perfect target.
I know Kelvin is likely rounding the bend somewhere near the training halls. That’s where Darian used to spar with him, so I head there.
The door slams behind me, echoing down the cold stone hallway. Kelvin looks up from where he’s pacing, his expression shifting instantly, wariness, maybe even fear. But he doesn’t back down.
“I’m done waiting,” I say, voice low but cold, slicing through the silence. “Where is she, Kelvin? Tell me.”
He straightens, jaw clenched tight, eyes burning with something fierce and raw. “You really think I’m going to just hand her over? After everything? You must really think I’m stupid.”
I take a step closer, heels clicking on the marble like a countdown. “You don’t want me to be queen? You want to watch everything we’ve built crumble because of some girl hiding like a coward in the shadows?”
“What did we build, Adira?” He asks, confusion etched across his features.
I knew better than to attempt to answer that question, so I doubled down. “Tell me, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
His eyes flash, and suddenly he’s no longer the calm brother I remember. He’s furious. “You don’t get it. You never will.”
I narrow my eyes, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “Try me.”
He shakes his head, bitter, almost broken. “Even if you search the entire outskirts of the city, every goddamn inch, she’s not there. You’ll find nothing.”
The words hit like a punch to my gut. My throat tightens, but I force myself to stay steady. “So what? You’re telling me you don’t know where she is?”
“No.” His voice is a growl now, laced with frustration. “I know enough to keep her safe. More than you ever will.”
I laugh, but it’s sharp and hollow. “Safe? Is that what you call it? Playing hero while the throne slips through my fingers?”
He steps toward me, eyes blazing. “This isn’t about thrones or power anymore. This is survival. You want to be queen? Fine. But at the expense of Iris’ life is insane.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides. “Don’t lecture me.”
He points a finger, voice rising. “I won’t be one who lets her fall, not for your ambitions.”
For a moment, we just stare at each other, the tension crackling like static in the air. Then he turns, voice cold as ice.
“You can, as well, count the days you have left to stay here. Your days are definitely numbered.”
He leaves the words hanging between us, a puzzle I can’t yet solve.