This was the man destined to be by my side for a lifetime.
“Presenting His Royal Highness, Prince Ronan Draconis, rider of Gyrak the Black; and Her Royal Highness, Princess Nienna Draconis, the Dragon’s Heart!”
My brother bowed, and I sank into a curtsy, rising with Prince Tallon. I kept an iron grip on my brother’s arm as we moved, step by deliberate step, down the stairs, each footfall reminding me to breathe.
His boots, polished obsidian with silver buckles, gleamed under the lights as he took the opposite staircase. His attire—a black tunic and trousers paired with a deep red overcoat—clung to his frame. Rings sparkled on his fingers, but I refused to look away from his glittering gaze.
That crooked smile, a slant of mischief or perhaps defiance, seemed etched as a permanent stain on his features. I hoped it hinted at a jestful nature, like my brother, and not the hardened cruelty I’d glimpsed in the sneers of others. Surely Prince Tallon was no bully.
One wouldn’t direct such harshness toward his future wife and queen.
My boots struck the landing, high above the crowd, on equal footing with my betrothed. As we closed the distance, I tipped my chin, meeting his intense gaze. His eyes roamed over my features, drifting to my neckline.
Heat crept into my cheeks under his bold, open appraisal. But he was to be my husband, after all.
I could only hope he liked what he saw.
“Prince Tallon.” My voice pitched higher than I intended, but I resisted clearing my throat.
As he offered me his arm, his green stare cut to my brother.
“Mysister,Princess Nienna Draconis,” Ronan’s friendly tone carried a subtle warning—a reminder, “theDragon’sHeart.”
“Your Highness.” Tallon dipped his head, and a stray lock of dark hair fell across his brow in a boyish way. A stirring instinct to tuck it back tugged at me. Instead, I eased my hand from Ronan’s arm.
This was it—my presentation to the masses as the future bride of Radaan’s heir.
My fingers rested on Tallon’s forearm, and the light connection brought on a spark of nerves, prickling and hazy. Such a simple, innocent touch, yet it meant so much, bound me to him in more ways than one. Did he care that I’d given my pact to his father? That he missed the Dragon’s Kiss? If he did, he didn’t show it.
We turned to the crowd as one. My practiced smile set in place. Still, I cursed the way the corner of my lips twitched downward. Masses of nobles, ambassadors, and foreign dignitaries spread out before us, watching for any crack in my composure.
“Behold! Your future King and Queen of Radaan!”
The herald’s voice rang out, and my grin faltered, tension tightening my throat. Polite applause rippled through the audience, along with cordial nods and shallow bows.
But my gaze sought the king.
He watched us, his piercing eyes narrowed beneath dark brows drawn low to match his frown. Though he stood hundreds of pacesaway near the dais, his displeasure reached me as clearly as if he’d spoken. A flush of heat crept over my cheeks. Had I not been under every eye in this hall, I might have folded under the weight of his scrutiny.
Who could be so foolish, careless even, to make such an announcement? To proclaim a future king or queen—not heir apparent—while the current ruler still reigned?
“Let’s not keep them in suspense.”
Warning bells echoed in my mind as my gaze tugged back to Tallon. Weren’t those his father’s words when we met? He flashed me a predatory smile and took the first step to the ballroom. I swallowed my nerves and followed, avoiding the angry glare from across the room.
As soon as our boots hit the polished floor, the nobles closed in. I kept up my amicable countenance, struggling to remember names, territories, and allegiances. While I recognized most of the names, matching faces to their titles and recalling their interests felt like an impossible task.
“Ah, my lady—you’ll have to excuse me.” Tallon’s eyes glinted with amusement as he smirked down at me, lowering his arm—and my hand along with it. “I have business to attend to.”
Without me? At a ball announcing our betrothal?
With no more than a one-armed shrug, he plunged into the crowd. I stared after him, stunned.
He left me? Alone? Among a sea of nobles and dignitaries? A cold, sharp edge flooded my veins with an icy chill. I might have been raised for this, but all I knew was Draconia’s high court. Radaan was another world entirely.
A nobleman with bushy white hair tied back into a puff at the nape of his neck caught my eye. His grip on the elderly woman at his side tightened as they started my way.
No. No more goats.
