His brows drew together, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. The moon caught the salt and pepper stubble on his face, highlighting the faint tremor in his mouth as if he warred with words he didn’t dare speak.
“Radaan will have your dragons,” he said at last, his voice strained. “But at the cost of your marriage.”
The wind whipped around us, sharp and cold. I pulled his cloak tighter, the chill sinking deeper than my skin.
“Kallias–”
The door swung open, breaking the moment. Greaves moved with practiced precision, a knife flashing in his hand before the intruder even spoke.
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” the servant stammered, his wide eyes darting between us. “The floor is ready.”
Kallias straightened, the warmth in his expression gone. “Send a maid to Princess Nienna’s chamber,” he ordered, his tone hard. “I need no assistance.”
And just like that, we reverted to the roles of king and princess. I lifted my chin and slid into my mask once more, ignoring the way the hole in my heart tore a little wider.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nienna
Irose before first light. The servant assigned to me worked by lantern glow, guiding me through washing and dressing with the detached efficiency of someone performing a chore. Her indifference contrasted with Edith’s warm touch—the careful braids, the subtle gestures meant to make me feel beautiful. This woman saw me as nothing more than a duty.
I donned the same style as the day before: split skirts for riding astride. Tall boots gripped my calves, and I bit back a wince as I tugged on the dark brown breeches. The soreness from hours in the saddle throbbed in protest, but I told myself my backside could handle one more day. The white horse was steady and composed—a stark difference from the wild-tempered beast Tallon had insisted I ride.
Breakfast passed in tense silence. A messenger interrupted with news of an emergency that demanded the Phares’ attention, excusing their absence. Kallias barely acknowledged the boy, too focused on the sharp strokes of his pen as he composed a letter. I nibbled on a few bites of egg and fruit, watching as he sealed the missive with the heavy gold signet ring on his finger.
“This goes to Advisor Fallione in Reem,” he ordered. His glare promised dire consequences if the letter went astray.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The boy bowed and darted away down the hall, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Kallias exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening as he stared down at his untouched plate. I itched to know what the missive contained. Hiding mygrin behind another bite of egg, I wagered it carried a biting reprimand for the missing Phares.
We departed soon after. Kallias helped me into the saddle, his touch firm but fleeting. He squeezed my calf, and butterflies swarmed low in my belly. Then he swung into his own saddle with an ease that bordered on arrogance.
The way his trousers stretched over his thick thighs as he mounted left my throat dry. Shifting in my seat did little to chase away the heat blooming in my chest. Sunlight kissed his skin, tracing the sharp lines of his features. He glanced back and caught me looking. His piercing blue eyes flicked down, snagging on my exposed leg before rising to meet my gaze again.
Dragonfire—but the want in those eyes! They quickly shuttered as he turned away from me. Without a word, he turned and set the pace.
Our guards, Leon and Garett, rode ahead, with Greaves trailing close behind. As we moved through Phares, its beauty struck me—a city rich with gilded façades and opulent displays. Yet beneath the shimmer lay cracks. Poverty lingered at the edges, subtle but undeniable. Tattered garments hung on children darting through the crowds. Their wide eyes followed us with a hunger that went beyond food.
The townsfolk bowed as we passed, offering gestures of respect, but their faces lacked warmth. In Reem, the people brimmed with joy. Here, they seemed resigned. Content, perhaps, but far from pleased. Hollow cheeks and watchful stares told a story I couldn’t yet decipher.
I wondered if the scars of war deepened as we approached the mountains. Would the desolation grow, or was this quiet desperation unique to Phares?
Once we cleared the city, Kallias guided his horse to fall in beside mine.
“Should I expect the same warm greeting at Sol” I asked.
“Not at all.” He sighed, the motion rolling through his shoulders. “Claydon is an old friend. He served on the front as a healer and holds a great deal more respect for people.”
Relief eased the tension in my back, and I sank a little deeper into the saddle. “He seemed kind enough when we spoke at the palace.”
“The Sols are… enthusiastic,” he admitted, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “Sometimes overly familiar, but always generous in their kindness. Be warned, though—you’ll hear plenty about his goats.”
I groaned, drawing a laugh from him. “Hewasrather passionate about them.”
“They’re a peculiar breed, I’ll admit. I’m certain he’ll insist on showing them off.”
“I can hardly wait.” My tone dripped with mock enthusiasm, making it clear the creatures hadn’t won me over.
