We stopped in front of the dance hall. Nienna tilted her head back, eyes wide as she took in the stone eagles perched above the entrance—attached only at their wing tips, a breathtaking feat of engineering. I didn’t dare ask Clay about it, or he’d launch into an impassioned speech.
“Milord!” A young boy dashed up, eager to take the reins. “My king!” he called, ducking under the mule’s head with a grin.
“Blessings,” I greeted, sliding from my saddle. As I reached for Nienna, she dismounted with grace, and I steadied her waist as she found her balance.
“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured, turning to take in the city, her gaze sweeping over the marble streets.
“She’s the pride of the Andeluith,” I replied, reluctant to pull my hands from her.
“Sol is a marvel,” she said in awe as she approached the doors.
Greaves moved close, and we followed Clay and Nienna inside.
The building was massive, the vast open floor made more impressive by its lack of furniture. A few benches lined the corners, and stone pillars wrapped in living vines supported the roof. Mirrors at the doors and windows bounced light inside, reflecting off crystal and glass chandeliers.
The room dazzled, casting a thousand reflections. It bathed Nienna’s midnight blue dress in flickering spots that resembled the stars. She looked around, her lips parted in wonder, marveling at the marble that stretched deep into the mountain. Potted plants dotted the hall, and tapestries depicting lush hills and towering mountains softened the echoes while allowing the music to carry.
Gayle spoke with a musician in a corner while her husband led us to a long table laden with refreshments. The well-off citizens were already gathered, some bowing in my direction, waiting for the signal to approach.
We had barely raised our wineglasses when Clay gave the nod.
Once again, I donned my mask. I wasn’t just Kallias now. I was the King of Radaan.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Nienna
Isensed the shift when Claydon gave the cue. Kallias didn’t stiffen, sigh, or draw a deliberate breath. No outward signal marked the change, yet I felt it. The man I knew was gone, replaced by Radaan’s king.
A noblewoman brushed past, steering me a step away from him. I allowed it, though every instinct screamed to resist. Here, I was Princess Nienna of Draconia—not the woman who longed for him. For now, I could play the part—until the dance began, at least.
“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Avoth.”
“Princess, it’s an honor. I’m Luna.”
Names and titles whirled around me, as countless faces blurred into a kaleidoscope of fine silks and pinned hair. Their practiced smiles came and went like waves on a shore. Then the commoners trickled in. Worn tunics and patched skirts replaced gilded fabrics, their tired faces a stark contrast to the nobles’ polished veneers. Though they’d done their best to tidy up, they stood in the same line to greet us. For this moment, the divide between rich and poor had narrowed. Yet, the furtive glances exchanged across the hall suggested that equality lived only within these walls, and only for tonight.
I kept my composure, relying on years of training to navigate the endless parade of introductions. A noblewoman named Sherry stepped closer, her bright laughter grating on my nerves, but before I had to engage further, Greaves appeared at my side. His subtle gesture drew my attention over my shoulder.
Kallias stood across the room, speaking with a man dressed in fine-embroidered garb. Despite the conversation, his eyes found mine. A flickerof light sparked in their icy blue depths, and warmth bloomed beneath my ribs. My mask almost slipped as a smile tugged at my lips.
How had I let myself drift so far from him?
“The king has summoned me,” I announced, inclining my chin toward the four young women circling me like inquisitive hawks. Their questions about Draconia faded into the background as I moved away, not waiting for permission.
Wineglass in hand, I crossed the room to Kallias, straightening my spine and steadying my breath. His gaze caught mine again, roving to my boots before snapping back to the nobleman. A reminder flickered in my mind—not too much wine tonight. The last thing I needed was to lose my balance during the dance.
The setting sun spilled molten gold through the windows, igniting the white walls and polished surfaces. Kallias stood at the center of it all, bathed in an amber glow that made him seem untouchable. Almost.
With a single word, he dismissed the nobleman and crossed the space between us, his hand finding the small of my back. His touch was firm, anchoring, and he turned me away from the throng.
“Are you ready?”
“Are you, dear Kallias?” I whispered, lifting my drink for a final sip, my gaze locking with his. His eyes burned, unrelenting.
“Enough.” The word came out rough, nearly a groan. He plucked the cup from my hand and set it aside with a sharp clink. “We will open the dance.”
“Do you remember our first?” I murmured as he turned me to face the waiting crowd. People had already parted, as though sensing what was to come.
