When she set fire to her maid’s body, much to the chagrin of the staff, all I could do was stand at a distance—caught between chasing Darius and Fallione for answers, and struggling not to race to her side like a fool.
Somehow, I kept the mask of a king, watching her tears mingle with the rising smoke.
Radaan would need to adjust to their way of burial. We returned our dead to the earth, nourishing the soil for the next generation. Draconis, however, burned their bodies or sent them to the sea—sky or abyss.
I stepped into the cool shadows of Elohios’ temple, knowing Radaan’s people would struggle with the idea that Nienna didn’t worship their gods. Greaves followed me, his presence a silent weight as he helped remove the heavy mantle from my shoulders. His gaze flicked to mine, a furrow between his brows. Then, without a word, he placed it on the altar and retreated.
Nienna didn’t worship Radaan’s gods, but she respected them. That thought tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I allowed myself a small, fleeting smile as I retrieved a rug, kneeling upon it. She was willing to embrace our traditions, to make them her own.
She would be a fine queen.
A chilled breeze swept over my shoulders. I closed my eyes, seeking the quiet place between myself and my god.
Elohios. Father of Justice and Truth.
The tightness in my chest loosened, and I exhaled. He was listening today.
Forgive me.
Nienna’s face came to my mind. I shoved the thought away, focusing instead on my prayer.Give me strength to resist temptation.
My heart twisted painfully. I winced, eyes snapping open to focus on the crimson cloth beneath my knees.
Was that his disapproval? A rebuke for lusting after my son’s future wife?
Guide me.I tried again, but silence stretched. The wind died, leaving the space still. Had he abandoned me once more?
Elohios, deliverer of answers, grant me wisdom.The breeze returned, this time carrying the faint scent of lavender. He was answering me today—our connection restored.
I straightened, bracing myself.Help me. Show me who would so brazenly attack your servant.I devoted my life to the god, serving with honesty and justice. I never faltered—except when it came to Eldeiade and now to Nienna.
The bridge of my nose cracked. I recoiled, pressing against the sharp sting. A trickle of liquid ran down my nostril.
Blood.
I wiped it away, watching as it stained my fingers. The crimson spread, dripping over my lips. Was this an answer? Or another rebuke? Had I asked too much, pushing Elohios to remind me of my place?
Had he grown so angry with me that he could no longer ignore me? Or was this a sign—my own blood?
Tallon.
I frowned, and Greaves’ heavy footsteps grew closer, his unease palpable.
The prince didn’t have the capacity to hire assassins in the palace without me knowing. He would have used the Harvesters, who would’ve reported his request to me.
“Your Majesty?” Greaves rumbled from behind.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, scowling at the crimson still dripping down my face. I wasn’t ready to move, not yet—not if this was a sign from my god.
“The answer is blood,” I muttered, focusing on the mantle above the altar.
Did it mean mine was to be spilled? Was I the intended target, or was it a consequence of another war with the Velli?
Egath.
Horror gripped my chest. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to remain calm. The urge to blame Vellos was strong, but I had to be cautious. To accuse themwithout proof would make me seem paranoid, eager to plunge my kingdom into war.
Greaves shifted, his leather armor creaking—a subtle signal that he needed an explanation.
