When I reached the dais, Kallias’ gaze swept over my dress, approval sparking in his expression, warming the cold knot in my stomach. It was a small consolation, knowing I hadn’t chosen poorly.
I dropped into a shallow curtsy, the motion fluid despite my unease. He inclined his head in response, a faint smile playing at his lips, and gestured to his right.
After a steadying breath, I climbed the final steps. The crowd’s scrutiny weighed heavy, as though I stood alone against an encroaching storm. Each step felt deliberate, the muted rustle of my gown the only sound I allowed myself to hear.
The Thresher moved to stand beside Greaves, his presence a solid wall of tension at my back as I approached my chair.
“Princess,” Kallias said. His rise prompted the entire hall to follow suit, their movements a ripple of deference. “In light of recent events, and Tallon’s absence, I ask that you sit beside me.”
I froze, my pulse thrumming in my ears. A polite smile formed on my lips, practiced and unshakable, as I fought to steady my thoughts. That seat wasn’t mine. It belonged to Tallon—the prince.
The place of a future queen.
Horror and exhilaration clashed, twisting into a chaotic storm that left me breathless. Every eye in the hall burned into me as his offer loomed. I needed to tread with care, to find the perfect words. But how could I respond when Radaan’s king offered me his right hand?
“Thank you.” Hollow—but I said it, anyway.
A servant darted forward to pull out my chair, the scrape of wood on stone louder than I expected in the hush of the hall.
Kallias and I sat together, his presence steadying the frayed edges of my nerves. Even so, I remained quiet throughout the meal, prodding at the food on my plate. Hunger gnawed at me, but every bite turned to ash under the pressure of so many watchful stares. The thought of eating while they scrutinized me made my stomach churn.
Nobles approached one by one, their voices low and measured as they addressed the king. They avoided mention of the attack, skirting the subject as if it would contaminate the delicate civility of dinner. I forced polite smiles, though the muscles in my face ached with the effort.
When the final course arrived, a tiny apple pie glistening with golden syrup, I felt Kallias’ gaze shift to me. His scrutiny lingered as I nudged the dessert withmy fork, breaking the crust but not eating. A crumb made its way to my lips, more out of habit than appetite, and his stare burned hotter.
I kept my back straight, my posture flawless—a porcelain doll playing the part of the perfect princess.
But inside, I shattered.
Everything felt wrong. Scythe was gone, a hollow ache where her presence used to be. Tallon despised me, and I couldn’t stand to draw breath in the same room as him. My betrothed’s insults echoed in my mind, layered over the memory of my near-murder. My dragons were oceans away, and my family safely tucked within the Spire.
And here I was, seated beside a man I could never have.
Each rumble of Kallias’ deep voice sent a shiver through me, an ache to edge closer, to brush against him, to feel the solid warmth of his arm beneath my touch. My hands stayed in my lap, fingers clenched to resist the pull.
The stares of the court weighed heavy on my shoulders, suffocating. I longed for his hand to rest on my thigh, grounding me in the storm of their scrutiny. More than anything, I craved his call—a whispered invitation to his chambers, where I could find sanctuary in his embrace.
But the distance between us remained, an invisible chasm that could never be crossed. A breath apart, yet untouchable. I yearned for the stolen moments we’d shared: the quiet on the balcony, the intimacy of the library, the secrecy of the underground stairwell.
Those fleeting seconds, just him and me, felt impossibly distant—another life entirely.
Doubt twisted through me, knotting every thought. How could I endure this? A palace gilded in lies, bound to a man I despised, whileheprowled these same halls? How could I remain faithful to a brute like Tallon when his father, theking—intoxicating, untouchable—pierced me with a gaze that burned with desire? And if there was another attempt on my life, would the next blade find my heart, or would it be too shattered to matter?
“The hour is late.”
Kallias’ voice broke my spiral. I jolted, almost losing my grip on the fork. The pie remained untouched, mocking me with its sticky sweetness. I pasted on a smile and faced him.
His brow furrowed, his jaw tense as his gaze roamed my face. “I retire and advise the same to you.”
No request lingered in his tone. It was a command.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. The uneaten dessert blurred in my vision as Kallias rose, his movement signaling the hall to follow suit.
“I shall see you to your rooms.” He extended his arm.
His offer sank deep into my chest, its weight unmistakable, yet I accepted, threading my hand along the crook of his elbow. My lips pressed into a thin line. How far could he push before someone dared to question his intentions?
“She has Vyre,” Darius interjected, his voice a calculated drawl. He leaned forward, dark eyes narrowing on me. “Surely, a Thresher can offer a secure escort, Your Majesty.”
