Chapter 76

The forest was hushed except for the heavy beat of Serenya’s heart.

She stood beneath the skeletal branches, the parchment from her father still clenched in her hand, its words etched into her mind. Not the only heir. The throne rests on a lie.

Darian Crestfall lingered a few paces away, his armor scuffed from the skirmish, his sword arm bloodied. His gaze was fixed on her, but his eyes seemed miles distant.

“Speak,” Serenya demanded, her voice sharp despite the tremor in her throat. “No more evasions. You’ve held the truth behind this crown for too long. If you are truly sworn to me, you will tell me everything.”

Darian’s jaw tightened. For a long while he said nothing, as if wrestling with chains invisible to her. Then he dropped to one knee, not in oath, but in surrender.

“My lady,” he said quietly, “forgive me. My silence was not loyalty—it was cowardice.”

Serenya’s chest ached at the admission. “Then let your cowardice end here.”

He lifted his gaze, and the torment in his eyes nearly undid her resolve. “The truth begins with your father. King Althar Vale did not claim the throne by inheritance. He seized it. The rightful line was extinguished in fire and betrayal—or so it was thought. But one child escaped.”

Her breath caught. “Kaelen.”

Darian nodded once. “He is the last son of House Draven, the dynasty your father overthrew. The shadows he bears are not merely skill—they are legacy. His claim is as true as yours, perhaps truer.”

The forest seemed to sway around her. Memories surfaced: Kaelen’s half-spoken riddles, his refusal to ever name his birthright, the way some soldiers whispered when they saw him unveiled. She had ignored it, choosing trust over doubt.

“And you knew?” Her voice cracked. “All this time, you knew who he was?”

Darian bowed his head. “I was tasked to guard you, but also to guard the secret. If Kaelen’s lineage were revealed too soon, it could split the kingdom before you had strength to hold it.”

“Then what am I, Darian?” she whispered. “A queen—or a thief of crowns?”

The knight reached for her hand, but she pulled it back.

“You are the one I chose to serve,” he said firmly. “Bloodlines matter, yes. But I have seen Kaelen’s heart—restless, vengeful, consumed by shadows. He could never unite this realm the way you could.”

“Yet you doubt me.” Her eyes burned. “I see it every time you look at me—you doubt my heart, my strength, my right.”

Darian flinched, but did not deny it. Instead, his confession spilled out like a wound torn open.

“I doubted because I love you.”

Silence stretched between them, thicker than the night air. Serenya stared, unable to breathe.

Darian’s voice faltered, but he forced the words through. “I swore an oath to protect you as knight to sovereign. But long before oaths, I loved you—as a man loves a woman. And that love made me weak. I feared if you knew the truth about Kaelen, you would choose him—choose blood, destiny, passion—over me. So I kept silent, even as the lies grew heavier.”

Her knees trembled, and she leaned against the tree. She had suspected Darian’s devotion went beyond duty, but to hear it laid bare under the moon was unbearable.

“Why now?” she whispered. “Why confess this now, when the world crumbles around us?”

“Because you deserve truth,” he said, his voice raw. “And because if I fall tomorrow, I will not leave this unsaid.”

Serenya’s heart tore in two directions. Darian’s loyalty was a comfort, his love a weight she had not asked for, yet it touched a part of her aching for certainty. But Kaelen’s face haunted her—his storm-grey eyes, his voice promising trust, his very existence a mirror of her own secret destiny.

The parchment crinkled in her hand. She thought of the crown, the blood it had been forged in, and the kingdom it threatened to destroy.

“Darian…” Her voice was soft, aching. “If Kaelen is rightful heir, then what am I?”

His hand hovered, then fell to his side. “You are Serenya Vale. That is enough for me. But the realm may demand more.”

A twig snapped nearby. Both drew their weapons instinctively, blades flashing in the pale moonlight.

From the shadows, Kaelen himself emerged. His cloak was torn, his chest heaving with the effort of battle. Blood streaked his arm, but his eyes—those storm-grey eyes—were sharp as steel.

“You’ve told her.” His voice carried no surprise.

Darian stepped protectively before Serenya, sword raised. “She deserved truth. More than you ever gave her.”

Kaelen’s lip curled in disdain. “Truth without choice is just another cage. You would chain her to fear.”

“And you would chain her to destiny,” Darian shot back.

“Enough!” Serenya’s cry split the air. Both men froze, their swords trembling in their grip.

Her chest heaved as she looked between them—knight and shadow, love and mystery, oath and blood. Two men bound to her, yet divided by truths that threatened to crush her.

She raised the parchment high. “This crown will not destroy me. I will uncover every secret it hides, and I will decide who wears it. Not destiny, not blood, not oath. Me.”

Kaelen’s eyes softened, though his body remained taut as a drawn bow. “Then decide, Serenya. Decide whom you will trust.”

Darian’s breath hitched, and he lowered his blade just an inch. “And know, whatever choice you make… I will not leave your side.”

The fire of choice burned within her, searing away the last of her innocence.

But before she could answer, horns blared in the distance—the duke’s signal. Enemy riders approached, their numbers heavy.

Kaelen’s gaze snapped toward the sound, then back to her. “The time for words is gone. Survive this night, Serenya, and then choose.”

Without waiting for reply, he vanished back into the trees, a shadow swallowed by shadow.

Darian turned to her, pain etched across his features. “Stay close to me. I will see you through this.”

Serenya’s grip tightened on her sword. Her heart thundered with both dread and determination. The crown’s secrets had been bared, but the battle for her throne—and for her heart—had only just begun.

And as the horns drew nearer, she whispered to herself: No matter what destiny demands, I will carve my own.