My thoughts drifted, the music’s crescendo stirring emotions I hadn’t expected. His hand at my waist remained firm, unyielding, while the other clasped mine with steady strength. His scent, a mix of sunshine and cinnamon, clung to me, drawing me closer as if to anchor me to the moment.
I wondered what scent Tallon carried.
As if he could read my thoughts, Kallias’ hand twitched at my waist. My eyes snapped to his, and I saw the shift in his expression before he slowed our movements. His glare cut through the crowd, and the music responded in kind, fading to a soft interlude, as if the very room bent to his mood. He stilled, and despite the smooth flow of the dance, my breath quickened, as if he’d stolen it from my lungs.
Without a word, he dropped my hand and pulled away from my waist, storming off the floor with a furious stride. I froze, watching him go, heart pounding.
Tallon swaggered over, a smirk twisting his features, Greaves trailing behind. My fingers twitched with the urge to slap it off his face.
Kallias stalked past a servant with a tray of wine glasses, snatching one without breaking stride. In a fluid motion, he tipped it back, draining the glass before lowering his chin to meet his son’s gaze. As they passed, Tallon’s smirk evaporated, his brows drawing down in a sharp, heated glare.
They exchanged no words, yet the weight of their silence rippled through the room, thick with tension. Greaves pivoted on his heel, falling in line behind King Kallias. Meanwhile, Tallon sucked in a breath large enough to puff up his chest, his forest-green eyes locking with mine. Again, he gave me a half-hearted shrug, as if offering an apology.
I reined in my irritation, forcing my expression into neutrality as he stopped before me. With a flourish, he stooped into a bow so exaggerated it almost bordered on mockery. My jaw clenched tight to keep from snapping at him, demanding where he disappeared to. Instead, I dipped into a respectable, measured curtsy. I wouldn’t give him as much respect as his father received. He hadn’t earned it.
His grin was boyish as he extended his hand. When I placed mine in his, his touch landed on my waist, but it felt lacking—fragile, almost as though it were an act, a thin veneer of sincerity.
I pushed the thought aside, shaking off the discomfort as the music enveloped us. The melody wrapped itself around me, coaxing my body into the rhythm, pulling me into a trance of familiarity—one I knew better than the man I was bound to marry.
Chapter Four
Nienna
When I headed to my rooms in the early hours past midnight, exhaustion seeped into my bones. Ronan never resurfaced, and Tallon once again left me to fend for myself. When he did, noblewomen swarmed, relentless in their questions and prying glances, all questioning why I danced with both Kallias, and his son.
As if any of it was my choice.
At least I escaped more talk of those infernal goats.
With my back straight and chin high, I moved through the corridors, guards on either side. But each step pulsed through my aching heels, and my temples throbbed with a dull, unyielding rhythm. The dress strangled my ribs, squeezing what little air remained. All I wanted was my bed, to fall into it and let the world carry on without me.
The corridor stretched ahead, the light from wall-sconces catching the edges of engraved doors as I passed each one, my guards trailing close but silent. I knew where my quarters were, at least, even if exhaustion blurred the finer details.
My gaze drifted to the carvings, all grand in their own way, hinting at rooms just as large as my own. A massive boar rearing against a spear-wielding warrior caught my eye. I slowed, studying the intricate details—the warrior poised, braced, yet dwarfed by the creature’s sheer size. A beast large enough to challenge a dragon, if it could ever take to the skies. Gyrak would be thrilled at the chance to battle a boar of that magnitude.
Dragons ruled above and below, dominating earth and sea alike.
Well, most of it.
Unseen monsters lurked in the ocean depths that even dragons feared.
The treaty binding Draconia and Radaan did not come without sacrifice on our side. My father didn’t just send me; he demanded much of our dragons, asking them to cross the sea. Born to the Wild Shores, the beasts now kept to our island, closer to their ancient territory than Radaan. A massive whirlstorm—the largest in recorded history—once grounded the beasts to our lands. Having them soar for days over the open sea went against their nature, a strain they would never have endured by choice.
We approached my door, carved with the image of dragons soaring above an island fortress, Draconia’s banner snapping at the tower’s peak. My lips tugged into a faint, wistful smile. This might be the last glimpse of my homeland I’d ever have.
Two guards flanked my doorway. An uneasy chill pricked my skin. I reminded myself that men, not shadows, stood behind the armor. Yet the anonymity unsettled me—I couldn’t read their faces, learn their names, or tell them apart. Draconia felt worlds apart—there, I knew the staff and their kin, shared stories, trusted them like family. Here, I had to win them over, show them I wasn’t a stranger in their halls to be feared.
When I entered my room, Scythe shot to her feet, nearly knocking over the chair in her haste. Edith’s stern look pinned her back into place but rose with careful dignity.
After the door clicked shut, I released a groan that would have scandalized half the court.
“Are you well, Your Highness?” Edith questioned, her tone carrying a faint rebuke.
I sifted through curses in my mind, knowing she would only invent a creative way to remind me of my decorum if I voiced them. As I moved toward the dressing room, Scythe sprang into action, loosening my laces with swift,practiced hands as I walked. My lungs expanded, savoring the first real breath I’d drawn all night.
“Hot water, Scythe.” Edith’s tone brooked no delay as I sank into an overstuffed chair, my head tipping back in surrender.
Scythe darted off, still buzzing with energy. “So, how was it? Was he as handsome as you dreamed?” she called over her shoulder, her excitement bright against the solemn walls. In truth, she was more suited to court life than I was.
