His chuckle deepened. “Didn’t you once suggest feeding them to your dragons when they arrive? Let’s hope that little rumor hasn’t reached his ears.”
Heat crept up my neck as the memory resurfaced. It had been my first council meeting, and Fyrn had warned me afterward that her father wouldn’t find my remark amusing. “I’ll offer my sincerest apologies, should the need arise.”
He scoffed, shaking his head, and we rode on in companionable silence. The mountains loomed ahead, their jagged peaks carving sharp lines into the horizon. Natural fortresses stood as both a border and a barrier—low enough for a dragon to soar over, yet far too treacherous for an army to climb. I imagined the battles fought in their shadow, wars funneled into narrow passes where the terrain itself decided the victor.
We bypassed towns and cities. I couldn’t tell if Kallias wanted to save time or craved privacy. This journey had begun as a tour with Egath and Tallon, meant to acquaint me with the mountains, but illness and obligations had turned it into something else entirely. A secret part of me was glad. Without Tallon’s barbs or Egath’s brooding presence, the quiet felt easier. Even Fyrn’s absence was a relief. She may have distracted me from my delusional attractions, but with her gone, I could unwind. Too many unspoken truths hung between us.
Perhaps that was it—there were no pretenses left with Kallias. We carried enough shared secrets to ruin each other if we chose.
As we neared the mountains, the midday sun revealed a city carved into the stone. I slackened the reins, letting my horse find its own way, my attention fixed on the sight. It shimmered with life despite its rugged construction, its walls blending into the rock. Yet Kallias led us around it, steering toward steep trails that hugged the mountainside.
When the path narrowed to a single line, he gestured for my horse to move ahead. I twisted in my saddle, arching a brow at him. “How exactly did you plan to get a carriage up here?”
His eyes snapped up from my backside and I smothered my surprise, smirking. He blinked, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “We’d have taken the longer route, but even then… it would’ve been an ordeal.”
His excuse earned a hum from me, though I swallowed the temptation to call him out on just where his gaze had lingered. Instead, I forced myself to focus on keeping my balance as my horse scrambled upward, muscles straining beneath me with each lurching step.
As we climbed higher, my heart was pounding. Sweat trickled down my temples, and my hands throbbed from clutching the saddle. Leon’s mount slipped once, skittering on loose gravel, while Greaves’ gelding stumbled over an uneven patch, recovering with an unnerving jerk.
The trail stretched upward still, daunting and unrelenting. I exhaled a shaky breath, gripping the reins with damp fingers, and steeled myself for the climb ahead.
We reached a plateau, and my attention caught on the line of soldiers barring the way. Their formation spread from one rocky edge to the other, immovable as the mountain itself. Beyond them, the path disappeared into a cavernous mouth hewn from stone, jagged and foreboding.
The sight of the cave sent a chill down my spine— its interior darker than the depths of any ocean. I halted my horse, gripping the reins as my heart thudded against my ribs. The path ahead vanished into shadow, a void so absolute it felt alive.
There wasn’t a speck of light.
Not a glimmer.
“Onward, Nienna,” Kallias commanded, his voice low but resolute as he rode past me without hesitation.
My hands shook as I nudged my horse along. The line of soldiers stood in green and gold, their stoic faces set and alert. Garett and Leon dismounted, leading their mounts aside as a man stepped forward, breaking ranks.
“You’ve been expected, Your Majesty,” he announced, his tone brisk but respectful. Another slipped into the cave, returning moments later with a flickering lantern.
“Claydon’sol awaits your arrival,” the first soldier continued.
Kallias leaned forward in his saddle. “I’m pleased to hear it. The mountain—has it been quiet?” he asked.
“No skirmishes in our district, Your Majesty,” the man replied, his words laced with unspoken tension.
The absence of conflict here implied unrest elsewhere.
“And the mines?”
“Blessed by Dagden himself,” he said with a reverent nod. “They’re producing enough ore to supply the kingdom.”
“Good. That ore will be used for tools, not swords,” Kallias’ tone lightened, and he straightened as they passed the lantern to Greaves.
One light? For that abyssal blackness? The small flame sputtered against the oppressive dark, its reach barely extending a few paces.
The soldier bowed before stepping into formation. “Thanks to your wisdom, Blessed King!”
Greaves rode ahead, and Kallias waited until I drew even with him.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to steady myself. I was raised among dragons. I didn’t fear the dark.
The peak of the mountain loomed high above us, a shadow against the sunlit sky. My throat tightened. It wasn’t the darkness I dreaded, but the weight of stone overhead—a tomb carved from earth.
