<h4>Chapter 22: The Weight of the Crown</h4>


    <strong>Zane~</strong>


    The moment I shut the guest room door behind me, I leaned my head against the cold wood, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The image of Natalie and Alexander curled up together lingered in my mind, a weave of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. Protectiveness? Worry? Something else entirely? I shook my head and pushed off the door. There was no time to unravel feelings. Not tonight.


    I walked to my room, the long halls of the mansionpletely quiet at this hour. My wing was on the opposite side, isted for reasons I sometimes resented. I reached my room and shut the door behind me. Darkness greeted me, but it wasn’t unwee. It was a dy to the punishments the daylight brought.


    After shrugging off my jacket and boots, I climbed into bed. The soft sheets were a mockery of the harsh reality I lived in every day, but I let them envelop me. As I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts flitted between Natalie’s face and the millions of problems that needed my attention.


    Just as I started to drift off to sleep, the familiar pull of my mind link snapped me awake. My father’s voice, sharp and authoritative, echoed in my mind.


    <i>"Zane."</i>


    I groaned inwardly, rolling over to nce at the clock. The red digits red back at me: <strong>4:42 a.m.</strong> Of course, it couldn’t wait until morning.


    <i>"Yes, Father," </i>I replied, my voice steady despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface.


    <i>"Any new leads on the Celestial Heir?"</i>


    I hesitated. The weight of his question was one I’d been carrying for years.<i> "No, Father. Not yet."</i>


    A sigh, heavy and full of exhaustion and disappointment, resonated through the link. <i>"Zane, you must understand the urgency of this. I was meant to retire a century ago. Do you know how tired I am after ruling for two hundred years?"</i>


    The sharp edge to his words softened, reced by something almost... vulnerable. <i>"My father, your grandfather, is out there somewhere, enjoying his retirement with his mate. And here I am, still warming the throne for you."</i>


    Guilt stabbed at me, but I didn’t respond. What could I say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse?


    <i>"Zane,"</i> he continued, his tone harder now, <i>"if you don’t find her soon, no one will take you seriously when you ascend the throne. Nathan is already waiting for an opportunity to challenge or kill you, and even if you escape, Alexander won’t be so lucky. Do you understand the stakes?"</i>


    My jaw tightened. Of course, I understood. Nathan, my uncle, was a constant shadow, waiting to pounce on any weakness. If he found the Celestial Heir before I did, I’d lose everything—my crown, my legacy, my son’s future.


    <i>"Broaden your search," </i>my father ordered. <i>"Check the minor royal families. She might have been born into one of them. Don’t let Nathan find her first. If he does, you’ll have no choice but to forfeit the throne to him. And even if you’re crowned king without her, if Nathan finds herter, he’ll dethrone you instantly."</i>


    I clenched my fists, the sheets twisting beneath my grip. His words were a familiar mantra, one I’d heard countless times before.


    <i>"I’m giving you four years, Zane," </i>he said finally, his voice low but firm.<i> "Find her, or you’ll take the throne without her and bear the consequences on your own."</i>


    <i>"I’m doing everything in my power,"</i> I replied, the promise heavy on my tongue.


    Silence stretched between us, and then the link severed.


    I let out a shaky breath, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. My rtionship with my father had always been a battlefield ofmands and obedience. There was no warmth, no connection beyond duty. Finding my mate, Emma had been the greatest disappointment of his life. She wasn’t the Celestial Princess he’d hoped for, just an insignificant Omega, as he’d called her.


    And now, with Emma gone, his pressure to find the prophesied heir had intensified. But what my father didn’t know—what I hadn’t told anyone—was that I was dead inside. Even if I found this princess, even if she became my queen, I would never be able to love her, never be able to even touch her, intimately. That part of me was long gone.


    Still, I would do as hemanded. Not for love. Not for the throne. But to ensure my son would never have to fight these bloody battles.


    Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I dialed a number I knew by heart. The line rang twice before a smooth, familiar voice answered.


    "Zane," Sebastian drawled, amusementcing his tone. "What a pleasant surprise at this ungodly hour."


    "How’s the search going?" I asked, skipping pleasantries.


    There was a pause, and then his tone turned serious. "I’ve got a lead."


    My heart stuttered. "A lead? What kind of lead?"


    "It’s too important to discuss over the phone," he replied. "I’lle to your ce in the morning."


    "Sebastian," I pressed, my patience fraying, "just tell me now."


    "No can do, Your Highness," he said, the title dripping with mockery. "I’ll see you at dawn."


    Before I could argue further, he hung up.


    I stared at the phone, frustration gnawing at me. Sebastian had always been infuriatingly cryptic, but he was reliable. My mind drifted back to the day I met him, thirteen years ago, barely a month after my thirteenth birthday.


    I’d just experienced my first shift, a moment of pride overshadowed by my father’s coldmands. Hemanded Charlie and Nora to send me away for five years of grueling training, a period designed to break me down and rebuild me into a king. Charlie and Nora had watched from a distance, never interfering, never helping.


    It was during one of those harsh days that I stumbled upon Sebastian. He’d been left for dead, trapped in a silver-lined under the open sky. The sun was rising, its rays a death sentence for any vampire caught unprotected.


    Despite my training—despite the lessons drilled into me by Charlie and Nora about self-preservation—I couldn’t leave him. Dragging him to a shaded cave, I’d saved his life.


    When he’d recovered enough to speak, he’d introduced himself as Sebastian Lawrence, an outcast from his coven. He’d spoken against their coven master’s tyranny, and his defiance had nearly cost him his life.


    "I owe you my life, pup," he’d said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Name your price, and I’ll pay it."


    I’dughed then, brushing off his dramatic deration. But as we talked, I gotfortable with him and I told him about the Celestial Princess, about my father’s obsession and my own desperate need for my father’s approval.


    Sebastian had listened, his sharp mind piecing together stories and legends I’d never heard before. He’d be my ally, my confidant, and over the years, my closest advisor in the search for the heir andstly, my best friend.


    Now, as I sat in my darkened room, his words reying in my mind, hope flickered to life. Maybe, just maybe, this lead would be the one.


    And if it wasn’t?


    I shoved the thought aside. Failure wasn’t an option. Not for me. Not for Alexander.


    In the morning, I’d face whatever Sebastian brought me. And if it was a dead end, I’d keep searching.


    Because that was what kings did. They endured. They fought. And they never, ever gave up.