Kallias stilled, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “I am the king. If I wish to see Princess Nienna to her rooms, I shall.”
My fingers tightened on his arm. His muscles flexed beneath my grip, steel wrapped in velvet.
“Get me answers, Darius,” he ordered, his voice sharp enough to cut.
Without waiting for a reply, he led me from the table. Every eye followed us as we descended the stairs. My stomach churned, the intensity of their frowns more suffocating than the air in the hall.
Whispers would come. One rumor could topple everything. A single word could tear the trust of his people to shreds. With a kiss, the oath binding our kingdoms could shatter, leaving the promise of dragonfire looming. An embrace could strip Radaan of the protection only dragons could provide.
But I didn’t let go.
I couldn’t. He wasn’t just the king. He was Kallias. The man who stood beside me when no one else dared, who held me as tears came unchecked, judgment absent from his eyes. The one who valued me in ways my betrothed never could.
So I remained, my grip firm, even while my resolve wavered, fragile but unbroken. For him, I stayed.
The corridor stretched ahead as Kallias guided me from the dining hall. My fingers brushed the coarse fabric of his sleeve, holding on as though it could tether me to something solid amidst the chaos of the evening. When we reached a modest kitchen tucked behind a carved archway, Igor awaited with two steaming mugs of cider. His kind eyes, weighed with understanding, flicked between us, the faint tilt of his head speaking to a silent awareness of the night’s horrors.
The mugs warmed my palms as we continued toward the balcony. At the top of the stairs, Kallias broke his silence. “Vyre, secure Princess Nienna’s rooms.”
The command released some of the weight pressing on my chest. Without hesitation, the towering guard turned and strode back down the hall, his movements as fluid as a predator’s.
“Wait here,” Kallias called to his bodyguard, stepping out onto the balcony.
A muffled curse reached my ears, drawing the faintest twitch from my lips.
As the entry closed behind us, the quiet night enveloped me. My shoulders sank, and a rush of breath left my lungs, one I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.As I let go of Kallias, I swept damp strands from my forehead, the spiced aroma of cider blending with the crisp evening air.
“You didn’t need to come.” His hand pressed against the small of my back as he guided me to the sandstone railing.
“Yes, I did.” My voice wavered as tears burned at the edges of my resolve. The unfairness of it all roared in my chest. “Whoever orchestrated last night must understand they cannot break me.”
Kallias took a measured sip from his mug, the flickering torchlight carving shadows across his features. He leaned on his elbows against the railing, gaze distant yet calculating. “They thought you’d hide. Darius said you’d stay locked in your chambers—”
I scoffed, the sound bitter.
“—I told him otherwise.”
Heart pounding, I searched his face, the sharp planes illuminated by the starlight. His eyes, cold, though softened by something unspoken, reflected the night sky. A faint smile ghosted his lips, a rare crack in his regal armor.
“I am in awe of you, Princess Nienna, the Dragon’s Heart.” His voice dropped, resonant and deliberate. “Any other woman—queen or peasant—would have crumbled after what you’ve been through. But you stood before the council with steel in your spine, and tonight, you walked into that hall like a warrior claiming victory.”
The words settled between us, heavier than the night itself. His praise wrapped around me, a balm against the relentless burden I carried. For a moment, his belief in me outweighed the doubts clawing at my heart.
“I am Draconis,” I said, lips lifting in a small smile.
“No.” He shifted his weight, leaning closer, one hand braced on the wall, his other cradling the mug. His gaze pierced mine over the rim as he sipped. “You are not just Draconis,” he said. “You are you, and that’s what makes you strong.”
My smile faltered, and my eyes dropped to his golden chains, their delicate clink a faint reproach. “Sometimes, I don’t want to be strong.”
The confession spilled out, a fragile thread of honesty breaking the silence. Strength had been my shield, tempered by years of knowing this path awaited me. Yet now that it stood before me, I craved something else entirely. Simplicity. A world where Kallias ruled nothing, and I bore no title—where we could choose each other without the crushing weight of kingdoms dictating every choice.
His hand, rough and warm, tilted my chin until his gaze held mine. A tear escaped, trailing along my cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb. “Here, you don’t have to be strong,” he murmured. “I will carry your burdens.”
My jaw tightened, a futile attempt to dam the flood.
“Gods,” he hissed, setting his drink aside before yanking me against his chest.
The cool bite of the chains pressed into my skin, a stark contrast to the solid warmth of his embrace. He pried the mug from my hands, and I clung to his overcoat as though the fabric could anchor me.
