The Crown's Deception

Chapter 8 – The Chains of Choice

The iron dug into my wrists, each tug of the chains reminding me of how powerless I looked. Powerless, but not broken. I sat straighter despite the bruises, lifting my chin like a queen even though the guards had forced me to kneel.

Every heartbeat was a storm inside my chest. The throne room was heavy with silence, broken only by the clink of Kael’s restraints as he shifted a little closer, as if the smallest movement might shield me. His presence steadied me and unsettled me in the same breath. Was he here as my protector… or my betrayer?

Lysa knelt beside me, her cheek streaked with blood where one of the soldiers had struck her. Yet her eyes burned brighter than ever. Stay strong, she seemed to say without words.

And above us all — my father. King Edric, his jaw carved from stone, his knuckles white where he gripped the armrest of his throne. I searched his face, desperate to find a trace of the man who had once read me stories by firelight. But all I saw was a ruler at war with himself, the crown on his brow heavier than my chains.

Then the sound came.

Boots. Echoing through the marble hall. Each step deliberate, like the march of inevitability.

The doors swung wide.

Prince Darius of Draven entered.

The room seemed to bend around him, as though his presence alone demanded the air shift to his will. Golden embroidery glittered along the black velvet of his cloak, his crown gleamed with cruel precision, and his smile — gods, that smile — was polished perfection. It was the smile of a man who could charm a court with a glance… and crush it with the same hand.

His eyes found mine at once. They darkened with hunger, not the kind that could ever be sated with feasts. This was hunger for power, possession — for me.

“Elara,” he said, my name a purr that coiled around my throat like another chain. “So this is where I find my bride… brought low before her people.”

I forced myself not to flinch. “Better to be brought low in chains than bound in marriage to you.”

A ripple moved through the hall. Even the guards seemed to stiffen. Darius’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes flashed like steel drawn under moonlight.

He took a step closer. Then another. Kael tensed against his restraints, and for the first time, I caught something raw and unguarded in his eyes — hatred. Not the distant caution he always carried, but a sharp, searing hatred aimed straight at Darius.

Why?

Before I could puzzle it out, Darius reached me. He crouched, close enough for me to feel the cool brush of his breath. His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for me.

“You will see, Elara. Chains can be broken… but vows cannot.”

My blood turned to ice.

And still — somewhere in the shadows — I felt Kael straining forward, as though he’d tear through iron itself to stop him.

Prince Darius rose smoothly, no trace of the predator in his posture now — only the polished charm that had won half of Draven’s court to his side. But his eyes lingered on me too long, too hungrily, and Kael saw it.

“Step away from her.”

Kael’s voice was low, hoarse from the chains cutting across his chest, but it carried across the throne room like a blade unsheathed.

The guards stiffened, waiting for the king’s order to silence him. But Darius only turned, amused, as though the growl of a chained wolf could do him no harm.

“And who is this?” Darius asked, feigning curiosity. His smirk curved. “Ah. The infamous Kael Draven. A traitor wearing a hero’s mask.”

At the name, my head snapped toward Kael. Draven. The word twisted in my gut. Kael’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.

“You would know a traitor when you see one,” Kael said coldly. His eyes never left Darius, dark with something deeper than enmity. “Because you’ve always been one.”

The court shifted uncomfortably. Even Malrik leaned forward, eyes alight, as if savoring every spark thrown into the fire.

Darius chuckled, smooth as silk. “How bold, from a man in chains. Tell me, Kael — how does it feel, kneeling once again before the throne you betrayed?”

“I never betrayed Lysara,” Kael snapped, his voice cutting through the hall. He turned then — not to the prince, not to the guards, but to me. His gaze locked on mine with a ferocity that pinned me in place. “I was betrayed.”

Something in my chest twisted, sharp and sudden.

“Enough,” my father’s voice thundered at last, breaking the charged silence. His fist struck the armrest of his throne. “This is not a place for old grudges. Nor for defiance.”

But it was too late. The words hung heavy in the air. I was betrayed.

What did he mean? Betrayed by whom? By my father? By the court?

Or by me… if I chose to believe the wrong man?

Kael’s words rang in my ears like a bell tolling doom. I was betrayed.

Betrayed by whom? By the King? By Darius? By the court itself?

My father’s face was carved from stone, but I saw it—the flicker in his eyes, a shadow at the edges of his control. He knew. Whatever truth Kael carried, my father feared it.

Malrik leaned closer to the throne, whispering something that made my father’s mouth tighten. The advisor’s voice was too low to hear, but his smile was serpent-smooth.

“Speak then, Kael,” Darius pressed, his voice rich with mockery. “Tell the court your truth. Or is your tale as empty as your honor?”

Kael’s jaw clenched. For a heartbeat, I thought he would speak. Thought he might finally shatter the silence around the secrets he carried. His eyes flicked toward me, lingering—hesitating. And then he dropped his gaze.

“No,” he muttered. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Darius echoed, laughter curling at the edge of his words. “How convenient.”

“Enough,” King Edric’s voice thundered once more, final and unyielding. He rose from the throne, his robes trailing like storm clouds behind him. His eyes swept the room, from me in chains, to Kael on his knees, to the smirking prince waiting at his side.

“Elara Veyra, my daughter,” he declared, his tone heavy with judgment, “you have disgraced Lysara with your disobedience. You would flee your duty, reject the alliance that may save your kingdom, and cast shame upon this throne.”

My heart stilled. I knew what was coming, but hearing the words spoken aloud was a blade I could not brace for.

“As punishment,” he said, his voice carrying to the farthest columns, “the union you so desperately sought to escape shall be brought forward. One fortnight from this day, Princess Elara will be wed to Prince Darius of Draven.”

The room erupted—gasps, murmurs, the shuffle of armored feet.

My chest tightened, rage and despair colliding until I could barely breathe. A fortnight. Fourteen days until my freedom was sealed away forever.

Darius’s smile widened, victorious, possessive.

Kael’s chains rattled as he surged against them, eyes burning with a fury that could set the world alight.

And I… I sat frozen in the storm of it all, knowing only one thing: If I did not fight harder, sharper, and braver than ever before—then the Crown’s deception would become my cage for eternity.