Her lips pressed together in a sad smile, her eyes heavy with sorrow. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen him that relaxed. You should know something about him.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words stuck. Whatever she was about to share felt too personal—too familiar, as if she already knew our secrets.
“I saw the way he looks at you. And how you look at him.” Her hands, warm and steady, wrapped around my clammy ones. “He hasn’t had an easy life. His path has always been hard, and I fear it always will be.”
She paused, and the silence between us seemed to grow heavier.
“He was just a boy when his parents died. Barely a man, and the weight of Radaan was thrust upon him. He faced war, but instead of retreating, he rode to the front. He led our people against the Velli for years. A lesser king would have buckled beneath the pressure, but Kallias stood firm in negotiations. He wouldn’t bow to Vellos’ demands. Some still resent him for that, but he knew what was best for his kingdom.”
She paused again, her expression darkening.
“And he did it all with Eldeiade at his back.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“You knew her?” I asked, my voice low.
“Unfortunately, yes. And I hid from that vile witch.”
I blinked, confusion tightening my features. “What do you mean?”
“She was feared by the people, hated even. Her words were poison. The way she treated the king—it was shameful. We only went to court when Kallias returned, to show him our support. She called him back once a month—and weall understood why. She wanted one thing from him: an heir to use as a weapon against him.”
She shook her head, her face tight with distaste.
“And still, he shouldered that burden without complaint. The poor man was broken inside, but he upheld his honor. Every time, he returned to her summons.”
Her raw disdain cut through my discomfort. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
“Because,” she said, tears glimmering in her eyes, “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“I assure you–”
“Please, let an old woman ramble,” she interrupted, her voice firm. “There have been no rumors, worry not. But if he has even the smallest chance at happiness with you, I’ll do everything in my power to help.”
“I am betrothed to his son.” The words tumbled out, jagged and desperate. She couldn’t say those things out loud. I couldn’t hear them. My ears burned with treason.
She paused, her shoulders sinking under the weight of my denial. “Can it not be rewritten? There’s no love between you and Tallon—thatis no secret.”
“No,” I said, my voice cold. “The treaty was signed by Nereus, Dragon King of Draconia and King Kallias of the Plentiful Plains. His own blood sealed the oath, promising his son to me.”
Her expression dimmed, sorrow etched into her features. Rising, she smoothed her skirts with trembling hands. “Then let me say this. Kallias deserves more than what life has given him. Here, you are free to act as you will—choosewho you will—and in turn, I will remain silent.”
My mouth fell open, but she didn’t wait for a reply before sweeping across the room and out the door.
Chapter Thirty-One
Kallias
“I’m telling you, the tests show the milk from the Kuh’lir has far more fat than the sheep in the foothills. If you grant me a little more grain, I could make up for it next year in butter! Nienna’s a lovely girl.”
My eyes snapped open. I squinted at the ceiling of Clay’s study. The rough wooden beams crisscrossed above me, contrasting sharply with the solid stone walls. The sight made my head throb a little harder.
“What was that last part?”
“I said I could make up for it in butter.”
I raised an eyebrow. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing pale, scarred arms inked with blotches. He smiled at me, that pleased, knowing grin of his, his halo of white hair catching the sunlight like a crown.
“No, the other part.”
