“Tell that to my heart, Kallias!” My voice cracked as I hauled myself upright. He extended a hand, but I refused it, stepping back as though his touch might shatter me completely. “Tell that to my soul when you’re the first thing I think of when I wake. When I look for you throughout the day just hoping for a glimpse of your mantle. Tell me that when I lie awake at night, consumed by a fire only you could quench.”
The words tumbled out, raw and unforgiving, as I swiped furiously at my tears. I despised the way he stood there, fists tight at his sides, his restraint as unyielding as the chains of his duty.
“You don’t get to tell me who I can love,” I said, my voice trembling with defiance. “My heart is mine to give.”
Turning away, I dragged each step down the moonlit path, the foliage dissolving into a blur around me.
Just before the darkness swallowed me, I whispered to the night, “And it’s yours to break.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kallias
My jaw throbbed from clenching too often. Every time Nienna crossed my path, I swallowed my emotions like bitter poison. The maddening urge to seize her, to tell her everything had been a mistake, clawed at me. I wanted to spirit her away, far from duty and consequence.
But there was no escape.
I was a widowed king. She, a princess, promised to my son. Her father was a man of ferocious love and boundless rage. To suggest a change to the alliance would do more than stain my honor. It was a direct act of war that would risk dragonfire.
Disgust coiled in my stomach. I dragged a hand down my face, my fingers digging into my eyes as though I could rub away the shame. What kind of man would allow his daughter to marry someone twice her age? Worse, she had been here for weeks—enough time for a predator to circle, exploiting her innocence and naivety.
That predator was me.
A monster.
Lusting after her.
Elohios must have turned his blessing from me long ago. Perhaps this was some cruel test from the gods, one I had already failed.
Guilt gnawed at me, unraveling what little remained of my sanity. Stolen moments weren’t worth the damage they caused, and yet, when she passed me in the halls? The rejection in her eyes splintered what was left of my heart.
She treated me with deliberate indifference, cold as frost on glass. Even Clay and Gayle noticed it the next morning at breakfast.
Our legs stayed tucked beneath our chairs, the space between us never crossed. She angled herself just enough to avoid seeing me without effort.
And she succeeded.
The absence of her attention consumed me in ways I hadn’t imagined possible. I thought I cherished her company before, but now her memory haunted me. Dreams of her depthless eyes, hair spun gold, and those rare, radiant smiles filled my nights.
My soul yearned for her gaze to meet mine again. One more smile. One more touch.
I needed it like I needed physical food.
A deep breath stretched the ache in my chest as I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees, hands folded against my mouth. The library floor, scarred and worn, offered no answers.
She was in pain. I could see it in her face, raw and unshielded when she thought nobody watched. She played her role, crafting the polished smile of a princess, but it never touched her eyes. I wanted to punish whoever hurt her. I craved their blood on my hands.
But I was to blame.
When had I started to mislead her? At our first dance, when I downed a glass of wine for courage? Or earlier, when I let her kiss me instead of Tallon?
The memory of fire blazed to life—the heat of her magic searing the air. It burned, a miracle it hadn’t set the palace aflame.
It was also a vivid reminder of my end if her father ever learned what passed between us.
“I don’t think it warrants a sigh like that.”
Clay’s voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. My gaze drifted upward to find him at his desk, a faint frown creasing his brow. I did not respond, didn’t even shift. Every nerve in me screamed to rage, to storm through the halls, to pull Nienna into my arms and beg her forgiveness—to take her to my bed and atone in ways that words never could.
