In this chapter you will either love me or hate me. Or maybe a bit of both.
I hope you all enjoy it either way - sorry it took so long to post; it was really difficult to write this for some reason, and I edited out/ re-wrote some parts because they were a bit out of character :)
We are reaching the end now, perhaps only three or so chapters remaining?
I hope you are all well,
Lots of love,
Daisy xo
________________________
Chapter 50 | The Lion and The Liar
*
'In the middle of the night,
In the middle of the night,
Just call my name,
I'm yours to
claim.'
- Elley Duhe
*
IRIS
Iris waited three days before deciding to tell Gabriel.
I'm leaving.
They were in the middle of a training session, and she had finally beaten her guard for the first time since Arlo's death. She had looked down at him sitting in the dirt, and – high on the triumph of winning – had shared the thought unconsciously.
Immediately she regretted her choice.
Gabriel was so stunned, that for a moment he simply stared.
Leaving ... to go where?
I'm not entirely sure yet. But I'm leaving Aether. Iris narrowed her eyes. "I forbid you from repeating this," she felt the need to say the command out loud, as though speaking it internally didn't hold enough power.
"Is this about revenge?"
Iris winced. "No." She lied.
Gabriel scrambled to his feet and gripped her shoulders firmly. "Princess," he pleaded, "I must ask you to reconsider."
She looked at him fiercely. There is no reconsidering. You can either come with me, or you can stay behind.
Slowly, Gabriel released his hold and Iris was surprised to see he looked slightly wounded. I have pledged myself in your service, he said. You believe that I would abandon that vow so readily?
No, Iris felt uncomfortable. But this is the first time I would be asking you to do something beyond your will.
Gabriel's stoic expression softened slightly. No one said it was beyond my will, my lady.
But Iris couldn't help but feel that it wasn't going to be so simple.
-
"I told you," Iris snapped irritably. "You don't need to do this."
"Yes. I do."
"No-one asked you to come. I certainly have no interest in sparring with you. You should just go. Mizuki and Gabriel are more than enough for me to practice against."
"Mizuki is biased," Vandor drawled over his shoulder, "and so is Gabriel." Iris quickened her footsteps to keep pace with him, but she swore he was walking faster on purpose. "It is my duty, as the King's first General, to put you in your place."
"Oh really?" Iris mocked. "And what if I put you in yours first?"
"Tch." Vandor glared at her. "Unlikely."
"This is not going to be helpful," Iris gave him a dark scowl. "You probably suck as a teacher."
"Oh?" Vandor's hand fell on her shoulder, his annoying face suddenly very much in front of her own. "Scared?" He leered.
She scowled and threw off his hand. "Unlikely," she retorted, throwing his own scorn back at him.
He sneered. "Bah. You're no fun."
"Neither are you!" She snapped.
Their bickering continued all the way down to the training grounds, by which time Iris was so irritated that she was itching for a fight.
"Well?" Vandor said as he prowled around the edge of the training ring, "don't hold back."
"I wasn't planning to," Iris snarled as she lunged, shifting into her half beast form immediately. She was no fool – she had seen Vandor holding Darius back in the office that day. If she attacked the General with anything less, she would be deluding herself.
Sure enough, Vandor didn't even flinch at the shift and met her head on, his gloved hands lifting to knock aside her attack as though it were nothing. Iris's heavy back paws dug into the dirt, and undeterred, she crouched, swiftly lashing out for his torso, her silver claws flashing in the sunlight. She struck the hard surface of his armour, the metallic screech jarring her teeth and instantly making her regret the action. She recoiled as the sound continued to reverberate through her sensitive ears, grimacing in annoyance.
Vandor smirked, attacking without giving her time to recover. She defended against him quickly, but her clawed hands twitched, as though the feeling of slashing against the armour remained etched into her bones.
"You didn't just think I wore it for show, did you?" Vandor taunted, as he landed a few blows in quick succession. Each hit struck with the force of a battering ram and Iris blocked the last one barely. "Titanium has an uncomfortable density for lycan claws," he grinned savagely, "it's enough to catch any first timers off guard."
Iris scowled, remembering how Darius had sliced through the metal without hesitation. Sure, he hadn't been in his right mind, but his lack of reaction surely meant that hadn't been the first time it had happened.
"I guess I'll just have to aim for your face then," Iris growled, dashing forwards to do just that. Her fist struck out, but it was a feint, and her other hand came up from underneath, ploughing into Vandor's jaw.
The blow was enough to turn the General's head, but only for a second. In a flash he was behind her, and she felt his foot connect with her back. The breath was pushed from her lungs as he unceremoniously booted her out of the ring.
"I win," he said smugly, looking down at her where she lay, stunned and dishevelled in the dirt.
Iris's pointed silver ears pressed back against her head as she snarled at him. "Again." She growled, rising to her feet.
Vandor grinned wolfishly. "I was hoping you'd say that."
-
Unfortunately, it didn't matter how many times Iris got up again, it seemed that she was no match for Vandor. Although, to be fair- it was the first time she had fought against someone who flaunted such dirty tactics so brazenly.
"Do you really expect your opponent to fight fair in a real fight?" Vandor had sneered after he had pummelled Iris into the ground for the sixth time. This round he had caught her hand and twisted to the point of pain, refusing to let go so that Iris was forced to fight him in close range least she break her wrist.
"Of course not," Iris had shot back fiercely.
"Sometimes," Vandor had snarled, "you just have to take the sacrifice. You're a lycan, Princess, you will heal."
Iris had flushed with anger. "This is training," she had snapped back, "I didn't come down here today expecting to have to break my limbs."
"With your current skill set did you really expect to win against me without experiencing a little pain?" Vandor had taunted. "This is why it's useless to train against those who are biased towards you- they are too soft. In a real fight, it is life or death," his eyes had narrowed calculatingly, "or did you already forget?"
The jab had made her flinch. She knew what he was referring to. Although he hadn't been there the night Arlo had died, she could tell Vandor knew- that night, she hadn't stood a chance.
"If you understand," Vandor had said, "then try again."
So, she had climbed back to her feet, a mixture of pride and hatred propelling her forwards. She had never wanted to beat someone so badly in her life – not even Arlo. All she wanted was to wipe the smug look off Vandor's face, but the longer she fought against him, the more frustrated she felt. As there had been with Arlo – there was simply too much distance between them.
"You need to feel frustrated," Vandor blocked her fist with ease, directing the blow to the side so that her ribcage was left open to his attack. "You need to struggle. There is always someone above you," he snarled, as his fist connected, pushing the breath from her lungs. "And if you don't like it, then do something about it."
Iris landed on the ground with a thump, spitting a glob of blood into the dirt as she coughed. "You're a fucking bastard," she growled, wiping the blood from her chin. "You know that right?"
Vandor preened in front of her. "Of course," he smirked, "it comes with experience."
"Again." Iris heaved herself to her feet. Her limbs were heavy, and despite what she had said, she was pretty sure something was broken somewhere.
To her surprise, Vandor declined. "No." The answer was short. "You are done for today."
A retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it back. It would not make a difference if they went another round – she was not going to win a match today. Nodding, she rose to her feet slowly. She shifted back to her human form, her clothes filthy, and tattered around the edges.
"It is his Majesty's birthday tomorrow."
Iris looked up in shock. "What?"
Vandor was looking studiously off in the direction of the palace. "Do something for him." He said bluntly. "His Majesty does not let us celebrate."
A second surprise. "What do you mean?" Iris asked, stunned.
"He has commanded us," Vandor said shortly, "against celebrating. So do something for him, would you?" He glanced at her. "Good work today."
Without another word, the General stalked off, heading back towards the palace. But Iris had not missed the bitterness in his voice.
-
Iris found Darius in his study, where she knew he would be. She had been checking on him more frequently since the incident, mildly paranoid that he would have another episode. He had not spoken to her about it upon awakening the next morning, and she had given him space out of respect. Vandor had told her all she needed to know.
She sidled up to him now and perched on the edge of his desk, knawing at her bottom lip contemplatively.
"Where have you been?" Darius's voice was slow and deep. The late afternoon light spilled through the windows behind him, capturing the right side of him in a warm embrace. He was relaxed, she noticed, as he scanned through the paper in his hand leisurely. He had yet to look at her, so she studied his strong profile in silence for a moment, her gaze lingering on the golden fan of his lashes, the fine hairs illuminated further in the sunlight.
"Training." She said eventually.
Iris knew, from the sparse glimpses of her reflection that she had tolerated in the bathroom mirror, that Arlo's death had aged her. Perhaps not in a way that was noticeable to anyone else, but it was certainly noticeable to Iris. Sometimes she felt as though the weariness gnawed on her tender flesh, all the way down to her marrow.
But for however much Iris had aged physically, Darius remained the same. It was almost amusing to Iris now, that she had once thought him much older than her – in both appearance, and age. He had seemed so intimidating, so aloft, as he had stared haughtily down at her from behind the desk on which she now sat. Back then, she had truly been nothing more than a naïve child, cowering behind Arlo's shielding arm, and Darius had been a person far out of her reach.
Gradually the truths Iris had learned about him had pulled him down from the pedestal she had placed him on, claiming him too, as a victim of happenings beyond his control. Perhaps it was this knowledge that had gradually shaped him into something less like a God, and more like a mortal in her eyes. She wondered when her aging would begin to slow completely, as his had. Would it be in one year, or two? It was different for every lycan, but usually aging was paused at around thirty. Gradually lycans grew older physically, but it took a few centuries. Balthazar was easily the oldest lycan that Iris had ever met, and even then, she was unsure of his true age.
Darius, she always thought, seemed frozen at around twenty-eight, although his true age added a maturity that his physical looks did not. Arlo had always seemed a little younger in comparison, perhaps around twenty-six.
Iris found herself hoping that she would match these numbers. It would be something she would have in common with Arlo then – and she could carry him forward with her, preserved in time, side by side.
Darius sighed and looked up from his writing. His golden lashes created tiny halos around his piercing grey eyes. There was a smudge of blue in those eyes today. Cornflower blue that reminded Iris of Arlo.
"Training?" The scepticism in his tone pulled Iris from her thoughts, and she saw him absorb her bedraggled appearance. He frowned. "Against whom?"
Iris folded her arms with a scowl. "Who do you think?"
Laying the document down on his desk, Darius leaned thoughtfully on his elbow. His strong roman nose wrinkled a little as he scented her, and immediately his frown was replaced by a look of amusement.
"Vandor?" he gave a soft chuckle. "I did not think my General so generous."
"I assure you; he is not." Iris said frostily. "It wasn't my idea in the first place. Apparently, he took it upon himself to check how my current training was coming along. He said everyone else is biased."
"And he would be right," Darius said. There was a glimmer of humour in his grey eyes that told Iris she was being indulged. "They are all far too soft on you."
"I'd rather spar against you than him," Iris groused. "He is an awful teacher."
"Sparring against me would be pointless," Darius dismissed, returning to his document.
"No, it wouldn't," Iris argued. "I used to spar against Arlo all the time."
A muscle jumped in his jaw at the mention of his brother's name. "Arlo and I are two different fighters. Were." He corrected. "We were."
"I saw you fight against him before, remember?" Iris pressed forward despite the sensitive subject. They couldn't tip-toe around it forever. And Iris missed talking about Arlo. To talk about him was to acknowledge that he had been alive – that he wasn't merely a memory. "You both have a similar fighting style."
Darius gave a sharp laugh and seemed to forget who they were talking about for a moment as he teased her. "And the Princess believes herself knowledgeable from merely observing one fight?" His tone held a trace of the haughtiness with which he used to speak to her, and Iris felt her hackles bristle against it.
She tutted. "You know I don't mean it like that."
"Oh really?" One golden brow raised in bemusement. "Then enlighten me."
He had her there. Disgruntled at being thwarted, she slid towards him, and he allowed her to sink onto his lap like a berated puppy. "It would not be pointless," she grumbled under her breath, lips pursed in dissatisfaction, "sparring against you."
His grey eyes were indulgent as he caught her chin, pressing his thumb to her lips to smooth out the gentle moue. The casual touch was expected, and yet Iris found herself holding her breath as his gaze lingered on her mouth.
"It would be."
Her lips parted under his thumb. "Why?" She breathed.
"Because" he murmured, his eyes dragging back up to meet her own, "I am in danger of becoming far too biased myself."
Something about his phrasing pulled an unexpected blush from her and it warmed the back of her neck, curling hotly around her ears. She felt his hand at her waist flex lightly, and she was suddenly hyper aware of the intimacy of their position, her blush deepening further.
He tucked her hair behind one ear, his idle gaze falling to study the redness there, and for one brief moment, the corners of his lips curved upwards. Unable to withstand the tension any longer, Iris pulled away, standing to put space between them. She felt uncomfortably hot as she averted her gaze, and in the silence that followed she remembered the reason why she had come to speak to him in the first place.
"Come to dinner tomorrow," she said, diving on the subject change before she gave into her embarrassment completely. "We haven't eaten together for a while." Too late, in this context, she realised that there seemed to be an implication behind her words that been previously absent.
"I can't."
His immediate refusal shocked her enough that she stopped overthinking, and she turned back to him with a frown.
"What do you mean?"
To her annoyance, he seemed completely unaffected by what had transpired, his handsome face as composed as when she had first walked in.
"I'm busy."
She blinked at him. It hadn't occurred to her that he would turn her down.
"Please?" She tried again shamelessly.
"I'm-
Iris cut him off. "I know you're not busy."
Darius sighed, running a strong hand through his hair. "Who told you?"
Her silver eyes were innocent. "Told me what?"
"Vandor put you up to it, didn't he?" His lips pulled down in a scowl.
"I have no interest in anything that dog has to say," Iris said blithely. "Dining hall at seven then?"
"Iris-
But she was already headed out the door. "You had better show up," she tossed over her shoulder. "It would be lonely to eat alone."
-
She may have confident enough to make the plans, but on the lead up to dinner Iris had fretted all day. She had been unable to see Darius in the morning – he was busy, just as he had said. But that was hardly her biggest issue.
No, her biggest issue was that she had no idea what to give Darius for a birthday gift. She had unapologetically demanded that Gabriel also skip council to accompany her down to Aether instead so that they could look for a gift together – a task which had taken the majority of the morning, due to the fact that Gabriel was, (for once,) utterly useless, and two, kept wasting her time by trying to talk her out of the decision she had made.
"Listen," she told him, after her had brought it up for the fourth time. "I am not changing my mind. You can either come with me or stay here. But I'm not about to let you tell anyone else about it." Her eyes narrowed. "And don't think you can stop me," she added warningly.
She paused for a moment, to greet a female lycan and her young daughter, who smiled up at Iris sunnily, and ignored Gabriel's fidgeting behind her. Iris was more recognised now, by the lycans of Aether, and while it made her happy, it also meant that her gift search was slowed, as she was stopped every five meters or so, by lycans who wished to meet the Silvon Princess in person.
"I just don't think you have thought this through," Gabriel said once Iris had bid the pair farewell. He hovered over her as she sifted through the market stalls.
"Princess, it is a pleasure to have you here," a female stall holder who looked to be a similar age to Mizuki, bowed lowly over her wares. "Please accept this gift." The woman offered Iris a soft package, with a gentle smile.
Stall holders too, saw fit to pile wares into her arms free of charge, and Iris had protested initially, but their cheerful insistence had eventually resigned her to her fate. That and Gabriel had informed her that the King hardly ever accepted such offerings, and it seemed as though the people hoped to lavish upon her the attention that their King so loved to avoid.
"They simply want to show that what is important to his Majesty, is important to them also." Gabriel had said quietly. "If Darius sees you accepting things from the lycan's in his pack, then he will know they are caring for you. It will make them both happy."
"I have thought it through," Iris said curtly, after thanking the woman. She turned to add the latest offering, (a beautiful satin robe,) onto the pile that Gabriel was holding. Her guard accepted the addition without blinking and continued berating her.
"I don't think you have. Did you give any consideration to how his Majesty would react if you suddenly went missing?"
Iris scowled at him. "Darius doesn't expect me to stay here for ever, Gabriel."
"No, but neither would he condone you leaving in such a manner."
"He is not my keeper."
"That is not what I am saying, my Lady." It was rare for Gabriel to sound so frustrated. "Forgive me, but have you considered what happened the last time you took things into your own hands?"
His words were like a smack to the face and whatever expression she was making obviously told him he had gone too far.
"Princess-" He began to apologise, but Iris had already turned away.
"You can go and take those things back to the palace," she said coldly, "I will continue on my own."
Without another word, she disappeared off through the crowd, the command in her words preventing Gabriel from following after.
-
It took Iris some time to find what she was looking for, and when she finally did it was nearing midday. She asked the carver to make some alterations, and then to send the final product to the castle, which he assured her would be achievable by late afternoon.
She hurried back towards the palace, determined not to let Gabriel's words affect her more than they already had. She knew that he meant well- even worse, she knew he was right- but it was different this time. She would not be so quick to rush in alone.
Iris knew the world out there was larger than anything she had ever seen, confined in her small bubble as she was. It was no good simply hearing about it from Balthazar's teachings any longer. Iris wanted desperately to experience it for herself. She wanted to find answers that were not spoon fed to her, she wanted to strengthen herself beyond what she could learn on the training ground.
Walking up through the palace gardens, Iris was so caught up in her thoughts that she failed to notice the woman standing in the middle of the path until she almost crashed into her.
"Lady Neithreal?" Iris looked up in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." There was a coy look in the woman's dark eyes. "Where have you been, Princess?"
"The market," Iris replied automatically. "Did something happen?"
"No, no," Neithreal laughed, "goodness no. I simply wondered why the Princess was absent from this morning's meeting." Her gaze flickered down to Iris's empty hands. "Was nothing at the market to your liking, my lady?"
Iris didn't reply, but the longer she studied the other woman, the more she felt it suspicious.
"Were you waiting for me?"
Neithreal's black eyes glittered. "Perhaps."
Iris had seen enough of Ragnar and Neithreal's interactions to realise when the latter was playing games. "If you have something to say, then please state it plainly. I have somewhere to be."
"Yes," the other woman gave her a knowing look. "I have heard."
Iris shifted uncomfortably. "What are you trying to say?"
Neithreal prowled a step closer. "Are you aware that our King has not celebrated his own birthday since before Aelin fell?"
Iris's breath caught. "No."
"Mm." The other woman reached out to catch a lock of Iris's dark hair. She wound the strand around her finger and brought it to her lips with a teasing smile. "But he is willing to do such things it seems, if it is you who is asking."
"What is your point?" Iris asked hesitatingly.
Neithreal grinned suddenly. "Does the Princess have feelings for our King?"
The question was so unexpected, that for a moment, Iris simply stared at the other woman, uncomprehending. "Excuse me?"
Neithreal laughed. "I mean, have you fallen in love with him?"
"No." Iris shook her head. She was unsure what expression she was making, but her skin suddenly felt too tight for her face. "No of course not."
"Oh~?" Neithreal's smile was smug. "I shall take you for your word then."
To her absolute horror, Iris felt a rising redness creep across her cheeks. She looked away, mortified.
"Is that all?" She asked stiffly, desperate to escape whatever this situation was.
"That is all," Neithreal sung. "Enjoy your evening, Princess~" She sidestepped past Iris and disappeared down the path, leaving Iris flustered and entirely unsure about what had just transpired.
-
Thankfully Iris was able to pull herself together before dinner, casting thoughts of Gabriel and Neithreal to the back of her mind as she focused on finding something appropriate to wear instead.
The carver from the town had sent a delivery boy up to the palace only an hour ago. Iris glanced at it again now as she pulled a brush through her hair. The little white box, wrapped in a deep blue ribbon, was only small- but she hoped he would like it all the same.
She sighed as she pulled her hair over one shoulder so as to better reach the ends. One of her maids knocked at the door and Iris called for her to enter.
"Do you need help, my Lady?"
"Yes please," Iris handed over her brush, frustrated. "It's too heavy," she complained, "I should cut it a little shorter, surely?"
"Your hair is beautiful, my Lady. It would be such a shame to cut it shorter. You just leave it to me."
Iris laughed. "Very well," she said with a smile, "I am in your hands."
An hour later, Iris stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down the front of her dress. She had wanted to wear something a little simpler, but her maids had insisted on dressing her properly. Now she stood in another one of Gabriel's father's creations – a tulle gown in deep forest green. It was a dress that Iris loved, beautiful in its simplicity and not as restrictive as some of her more formal gowns. With a plain, sweetheart neckline, the fabric then collected at her waist, before falling elegantly to the floor. Soft sleeves slipped off her shoulders, billowing around her arms and gathering at her wrists.
The golden bangles she had been adorned with jingled as she played with the ends of her hair. Her heavy locks had been brushed and oiled, and now curled loosely around her shoulders, the sides drawn back in a braid that was currently being fixed into place with a hair pin.
"Almost finished?" She asked, absentmindedly glancing at Darius's gift- still sitting on her dresser.
"Yes, my lady."
Iris felt a hair pin slot into place, and she reached to touch it. "Is it the butterfly one?"
"Yes, the gift from Prince Arlo."
She smiled softly. "Thank-you."
"Of course, my lady. I hope you enjoy your evening tonight."
"As do I."
Hovering outside the dining room door, Iris tried to swallow her nerves. She wasn't sure why she was even nervous in the first place – after all, it was only dinner – but she had gotten dressed up and for some reason that had marked it as a formal occasion. It had suddenly occurred to her too, that perhaps she had over thought this entire thing, and Darius could very well be sitting on the other side of the door, expecting nothing more than a casual sit down.
She clutched the small box in her hands and tried to ignore her sweaty palms. In a burst of courage, she pushed open the door.
The table was set formally, which immediately afforded Iris a sense of relief. Letting go of the breath she had been holding, she found him seated at the head of the table. Darius had glanced up when the door had opened, and his light grey eyes settled on her now.
"You're late." His gaze was heavy as he appraised her and she swallowed, lingering in the doorway.
He was not in the best of moods, that much was clear. Perhaps she had overstepped, by forcing him to come here on a night she knew he wished to avoid. But Vandor's bitter words lingered in her ears. No matter what he thought, Darius did not deserve to spend this day alone.
"You're the one who forced me into this." Darius scowled when she did not reply immediately. He beckoned her forwards. "Don't just stand there."
Despite his mood, she noticed that he was dressed as elegantly as she. A suit, the same light grey as his eyes, encased his broad shoulders snugly, his golden hair tamed and swept back in a low tail. The thought of him putting in effort for her even though he had not wanted to come caused a sudden tenderness to well in her heart. Such moods would have frightened her before, but perhaps it was that she knew how to sweeten him now, where before she simply had not cared to.
Walking to his side, she placed the little white box on the table in front of him.
"I have no need-" he began to growl, but Iris leaned across to press a chaste kiss on his cheek, cutting off his refusal effectively.
"Happy Birthday," she murmured against his skin, feeling a fleeting sense of deja'vu from her own birthday, and she smiled at him as she pulled away, the expression genuine and unrestrained. "Thank-you for joining me for dinner."
Darius stared up at her wordlessly. His hands – which had been reaching automatically towards the gift – twitched once, as though considering a change of direction.
Iris's smile became a little uncertain as the silence stretched on. She reached to tap the table in front of him gently.
"You should open it," she encouraged shyly. "It's not much, but I hope you like it."
A flash of some unnamed emotion passed through Darius's grey eyes. Iris blanched, her face growing red. Suddenly she felt too hot. "Well, you don't have to," she averted her gaze – embarrassed now. Perhaps he hadn't wanted anything from her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
A touch at her wrist stopped her from moving away. "No, it's fine." Darius muttered. He couldn't seem to look at her, his brows deeply furrowed, one hand covering his mouth. His fingers curled more securely around her wrist, and he pulled her back. "Sit down."
Bewildered, Iris slipped slowly into her seat. "You're not angry?"
He spoke after a moment, his deep voice a little rough. "No, I-"
Her baffled gaze travelled across his scowling, partially hidden face, to his ears that were – for once – not hidden by his hair. The tips of his ears were red.
Iris's own blush deepened unceremoniously as she realised the reason for his behaviour.
He was embarrassed.
She, Iris, had made Darius Greyson embarrassed. She thought she might die.
Straightening, Darius dropped his hand. It would have been impossible to read his embarrassment from his expression alone, were it not for his gradually reddening ears, and he seemed entirely unaware that they were giving him away.
Iris was trying very hard not to laugh.
"It's nothing," Darius said hoarsely, looking towards the door. There was a pause, and then a knock sounded, and a butler entered.
"Is your Highness ready for dinner?" The lycan asked with a low bow.
"Yes," Darius waved his hand impatiently, but Iris thought he still seemed a little flustered. "Bring it through. The Princess is hungry."
Iris couldn't hold it in any longer. She laughed at his excuse, and his gaze jumped to her.
"What?" He scowled.
She laughed again, unable to take him seriously when his ears were still red. "It's nothing," she shook her head with a smile. "I am hungry actually."
Iris realised, as the food was laid out in front of them, that she had been so worried about tonight that she had barely eaten all day. But Darius's embarrassment had completely dispelled any awkwardness she had been feeling, and now her stomach awakened as an array of dishes were laid down before them.
The two of them fell into comfortable silence as Iris filled her plate and her stomach, but as the food slowly disappeared and she began to feel satiated, she turned her attention back to Darius to find his gaze on her already.
His golden brows rose in query. "Full?" He asked.
Iris nodded and with a playful smile, reached out to tap the unopened gift that sat between them. "You won't open it?" She asked sweetly. She could not resist teasing him now that she knew his bad mood was just a façade.
His jaw clenched. "Later," he muttered.
"No." Her smile widened. "Now."
"Is that an order?"
Iris ignored him. "I'll be sad if you don't open it now," she coaxed. "I spent all day deciding."
He tsked, lip curling in a sneer. "Shameless." He admonished, but he grabbed the gift. "Fine."
Fidgeting nervously, Iris watched as he slowly unwrapped the little box. He appeared expressionless, save for the slightest tremble in his fingers as he gently undid the ribbon.
"Do you like it?" Iris asked immediately, as he cracked the lid. She leaned across the table so that she could look as well – even though she had opened and closed the box herself at least thirty times since picking it out.
"Are they ...?"
"Cufflinks, yes." Iris sat back in her chair, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. Darius was expressionless and she felt her nerves return. "I wasn't sure what to get you, since you seem to already have everything," she babbled, "but there is this carver down at the market that I've brought from before, so I asked him to make a pair in Azrael's likeness."
Darius lifted up one of the cufflinks, holding it to the light. The delicately carved moonstone glimmered mysteriously, bringing the tiny lion sculpture to life. The head of the lion had been rendered beautifully – Iris knew. She had fretted about the material – unsure if jade was more suited to Darius's tastes. But in the end, she had wanted something that marked it as a gift given by her. And moonstone had seemed like the right choice.
He still hadn't spoke and Iris shifted uncomfortably. "You don't have to wear them if you don't-
"I will wear them." He interrupted; his voice low but firm. He held her gaze steadily. "Will you help me put them on?"
Surprised, Iris leaned forward. "Yes ... yes, I- of course." Accepting the cufflink he passed to her, she grasped his wrist without thinking, turning it over to expose the underside.
A low growl slipped from his lips, and she glanced at him, startled. His face was turned away, a muscle jumping in his jaw. She followed his line of sight but found nothing – they were alone in the room.
"Is there-?" she began
"No," he said curtly. His grey eyes flickered back down to her hand, where it laid upon his wrist. "It's nothing."
Iris gave a hesitant nod and returned to her task – unfastening the old cufflinks, (elegant jade studs,) to replace them with the new. Darius watched her movements closely, and the silent attentiveness made her uncharacteristically flustered. His wrist flexed lightly under her touch, and she fumbled with the cuff, blushing as she felt the weight of his gaze intensify. She fasted the clasp quickly and let out a quiet breath.
"The other one?" She requested. Tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, she glanced up to find him staring back.
Iris stilled, her heart stuttering in her chest. Had he ever looked at her like that before? Her fingers ghosted across his wrist, and his eyes darkened. In that moment, Iris feared she might be devoured.
'Have you fallen for our King?'
'No.'
"Here." Darius said quietly, pressing the second link into her outstretched hand. The coolness on her palm shocked her from her thoughts and she looked away quickly – but the intensity with which he stared at her could not be so easily forgotten.
He continued to watch her, following the movement of her fingers as she deftly fastened the second cufflink – faster this time, now that she had practiced with the first. She found herself avoiding eye contact, terrified of what might be uncovered if she looked for too long.
"Done." She said quietly.
She had assumed he would inspect the job she'd done, but he did not spare a glance for the cufflinks, instead rising from his seat with his eyes still fixed on her. The hand she had been about to release, twisted around to grasp her fingers lightly as he tugged her upwards with him.
"Are we going somewhere?" She asked, startled into meeting his gaze.
His grey eyes were once again unreadable, and Iris felt her heart flutter in both relief and disappointment.
Darius shook his head once. "No." He uttered. "Dance with me." His tone was lightly commanding.
"You want to dance?" She meant to tease him, but her voice didn't hold the mockery she had intended. "But there is no music." her heartbeat quickened as he pulled her into the circle of his arms. She had to tease him. She had to – or else-
Darius leaned down, his breath fanning across the curve of her neck. "Then I guess you will have to use your imagination," he murmured. His fingers curled around hers lightly, and the intensity with which the heat of his skin burned into her was not cohesive with such a delicate touch.
'Have you fallen for our King?'
'No.'
Iris looked up to meet his striking gaze and knew that she had lied.
Darius held her gaze as he took the first step, pulling her along with easy grace. She felt as though she were gravitating towards him, drawn into an orbit that was dictated by his every whim, like the moon orchestrating the relentless pull and push of the tides.
And if she were the ocean, and he the moon- then she was laid bare under his illuminating gaze, left without any room for evasion. It was a blinding light. A confrontational glare. And one that she was unprepared to stand under.
When had she begun to feel this way?
It terrified her that she did not have an answer.
She struggled to remain calm, to lift her head above the surging wave of emotion that had capsized her out of nowhere. But it was as though everything she had taken for granted was suddenly all she could think about.
His large hand, so hot at her waist, seared through the thin tulle of her dress and left a brand on the skin below. The way he pulled her a little closer as they danced, guiding her flawlessly through the steps, as though she were something precious. His cool grey eyes stared down at her calculatingly, and Iris was abruptly fearful that he could see right through her – right through to her heart.
He spun her then, raising one powerful arm to twirl her underneath and away from him. Her dress flared outwards in an elegant circle, whispering against her ankles. His fingers squeezed her hand lightly, as he tugged her back towards him, catching her against his broad chest.
Breathless, Iris stared at him as he continued to hold her gaze. And indescribable ache was building in her throat, one that she could not swallow. She distanced herself a little – a movement he allowed so that they could continue to dance. He was assessing her, she could feel it, and her eyes flickered to his lips as he spoke.
"Something troubles you." It was not a question, more of a statement.
She could not bring herself to respond to the soft-spoken words as she spun under his arm once more, her fingers slipping easily through his own as he handled her as though she were made of glass.
He drew her up against him once more, the hand at her waist slipping to skim against her lower back in a movement Iris could have tricked herself into thinking was possessive.
"You do not wish to tell me what it is?" His words were a velvet rumble that shuddered through her body and she shivered against him unconsciously, her fingertips digging lightly into his chest before smoothing away the indent gently.
"No," she whispered, "I don't. Instead – can we just continue to dance like this?" She found the courage to meet his gaze once more, feeling a little of her desperation seep through.
She couldn't tell him. That was why she had lied to Neithreal. Because there was no point in even entertaining the idea. Iris was no longer so naïve. She knew her position, and she knew his. And she knew that whatever feelings she had, they would only end up as a burden to both of them.
His brow furrowed in confusion at the look in her eyes – at the scarcely concealed emotion simmering just beneath the surface. He dipped his head to speak directly to her, his breath hitting the top of her ear lightly and Iris's breath caught in response.
"As you wish."
Iris felt her heart throb, the emotion stifling her throat and blocking it completely. There was a traitorous burning in the corner of her eyes and to hide it, she simply lay her head against his chest as they danced, willing herself to remain strong. To deny the slow burn of attraction that materialised without warning.
She felt him tense at her action, unsure of what she wanted from him, but he relaxed after a moment, his arms shifting to hold her more securely as their pace slowing into a waltz. His heartbeat was strong and solid beneath her ear. Did she really plan to remove herself willingly from such a warmth? Although her own heart tore at the thought, Iris knew the answer was yes.
*