enjoyebooks CHAPTER 144
CHAPTER 144
POV: Mark & Adrian
“I don’t want what you want,” Adrian says, and it’s the first honest sentence of the morning.
We’re standing in the outer yard where the stone still holds the night’s cool. Swords rest against the wall behind us, forgotten. I squint at him like he’s just spoken a foreign language.
“That’s… new,” I say. “You’ve always wanted what Father wanted.”
He exhales through his nose. “I wanted what kept the peace.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
We face each other—same height now, same shoulders, same blood. People still say we look alike. They’re wrong. They always have been.
“I want to travel,” I say. “Not forever. Just enough to know the world isn’t only this.”
Adrian nods slowly. “I want to stay.”
I blink. “Stay?”
“Here,” he says. “With the libraries. The council sessions. The rebuilding. I want to understand how things work before I try to change them.”
I grin. “You’re going to be insufferable.”
He almost smiles. “And you’re going to be reckless.”
“Balanced,” I correct.
We stand there, the space between us not tense—just clear.
“So,” I say, “no competition?”
“No,” he replies. “No shadow.”
“That’s… relieving,” I admit.
He glances at the swords. “You’re still better with those.”
“Obviously.”
“And you’re still better with words,” I add.
He considers that. “Maybe that’s the point.”
***
Mark has always moved like he expects the world to bend. I’ve always moved like it might break.
“I don’t resent you,” I say, because he needs to hear it out loud.
“I know,” he replies. Then, softer, “But thank you.”
We walk toward the colonnade, footsteps echoing in a rhythm that feels familiar again.
“I thought choosing differently would mean losing you,” I admit.
He stops. Turns. “Why?”
“Because we were raised to believe only one path mattered,” I say. “That deviation was betrayal.”
He scoffs. “Father’s old ghost.”
“Not entirely,” I say. “It lived in me too.”
He steps closer. “Does it still?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s quieter.”
He studies my face. “Good. I don’t want to win at the cost of you.”
“I never thought you did,” I say. “I just didn’t know how to stop bracing.”
He nods. “I get that.”
***
We find Mother in the garden, pruning roses with deliberate care.
“You’re early,” she says, glancing up.
“We’re done,” I reply.
“With what?” she asks.
“Pretending we’re the same,” Adrian answers.
She smiles. “That was never necessary.”
“You say that now,” I tease.
She sets the shears aside. “I said it then too. You just weren’t listening.”
I snort. Adrian doesn’t.
“What are you choosing?” she asks gently.
“I’m choosing the city,” Adrian says. “The work.”
“And I’m choosing the road,” I add. “And… her.”
Mother nods. “Both are valid.”
Adrian glances at me. “You’re not worried?”
“About what?”
“That I’ll be… ordinary.”
Mother’s gaze sharpens—not harsh, just clear. “Ordinary is a gift when it’s chosen.”
Adrian absorbs that like a vow.
***
Father joins us later, hands clasped behind his back. He listens more than he speaks now. That still startles me.
“You’re diverging,” he says.
“Yes,” Mark replies.
Father looks at me. “And you?”
“I’m staying,” I answer. “By choice.”
Father nods once. “Then you’ll both need space.”
“From each other?” Mark asks.
“No,” Father says. “For yourselves.”
I consider that. “We can do both.”
Father’s mouth twitches. “Your mother says the same thing.”
Mark laughs. “She’s usually right.”
***
We walk the long hall together afterward, past banners that don’t feel like cages anymore.
“I’ll write,” Adrian says.
“You hate writing letters,” I reply.
“I’ll learn.”
“I’ll come back,” I say. “Not because I have to. Because I want to.”
He nods. “I’ll be here.”
We stop at the threshold where our paths split—one leading deeper into the palace, the other toward the gates.
“Try not to get arrested,” Adrian says.
“No promises,” I grin. “Try not to become boring.”
He smirks. “Impossible.”
We clasp forearms—firm, familiar. No rivalry. No debt. Just choice.
***
As Mark walks away, I feel something loosen inside me.
Not loss. Alignment.
For the first time, I’m not measuring myself against him—or anyone. I’m standing where I am because I chose it. And that feels like freedom.