“Ask, Advisor,” she replied, her voice clear and strong.
“Who would have reason to see you dead? Who stands to gain the most from such an act?”
His shrewd gaze dissected her, testing her. I didn’t like it. She wasn’t here for his prying questions.
“There are many who would benefit, as you’re aware.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle the smirk threatening to form. She had claws.
“The Velli would prefer no dragons at their border,” she said. “Other nations might aim for Tallon’s hand to secure an alliance with Radaan. However, neither Draconia nor I have enemies of note.”
“They fought like northern Radaanians.”
Greaves’ words hit like a mountain storm, cold and unyielding, filling me with dread.
Darius’ chair scraped against the stone as he sat forward, disbelief flickering in his voice. “They faced you? I heard they fled.”
“I cornered them in the western hall. They used the passages to the queen’s rooms, then slipped into the servant corridors and an empty noble suite to reach the main corridor.”
“Pity you didn’t keep them alive,” Glendor muttered, barely audible.
“Pity you didn’t keep them out,” I snapped, my tone as cold as the frost on the highest peaks.
“If they were Radaanian…” Darius trailed off, casting a wary glance at the captain seated beside him. He didn’t dare voice his thoughts.
But I knew. If the assassins were Radaanian, then treachery ran deep within my own borders. There was a Harvester among us—a traitor hidden in plain sight.
The revelation clamped against my chest like an iron vise. It would be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nienna
Irecall the captain and master of the guards leaving, Darius following with his Thresher. I remember Kallias’ hand on my knee beneath the table as he spoke to Fallione.
What I don’t remember is how I fell asleep.
Strong arms roused me, pulling me against something warm, solid. Cold metal bit into my skin. For a fleeting moment, panic seized me—someone held me. A corded arm slid under my knees, another along my back.
Then his scent reached me.
I relaxed, curling into his embrace, the familiar essence of cinnamon and cloves grounding me. Kallias. I blinked, taking in the shadowed contours of the underground chamber.
“Easy,” he murmured, his voice a steady hum against my cheek.
We were alone—save for Greaves. He cast a sardonic frown before turning to lead the way out.
“I can walk,” I whispered, but I hesitated. Part of me longed for this, for someone to hold me and promise everything would be fine. I knew I’d manage on my own, but that didn’t erase the desire to be cared for. To be protected.
And Kallias would do that.
“I can carry you,” he murmured as I leaned my head against his gold mantle. The hard, cold surface was nothing like the softness of his shoulder when I had cried in his rooms.
I sighed, trying to memorize the feel of his hands around me. “Fallione must think little of me.”
“I assure you, he’s quite understanding.”
“He’s had many attempts on his life?”
