“She doesn’t need to!” Tallon snapped, a scowl twisting his features. “That’s what the Threshers are for, aren’t they?”
I glanced at the giant in black leathers towering behind me. “How can I be of service, Your Majesty?” My voice wavered, betraying the silent plea for him to meet my gaze.
“Your training is insufficient,” Kallias growled, his words sharp as the turn of his back. A flare of indignation straightened my spine.
“He wants you to wield a blade,” Tallon sneered, his tone laced with scorn. “You have the right to refuse.”
Shock prickled through me. My eyes darted to Greaves, the only one who hadn’t turned away.
A frown tugged at his brow, and he held my gaze, steady and unreadable, before passing a sword to the king.
“Do you refuse?” Kallias asked over his shoulder. The pause in his movement betrayed something deeper, but he still wouldn’t look at me.
My focus shifted back to Greaves, seeking an anchor. His small nod was a quiet reassurance, the only permission I needed.
“My father never taught me swordplay,” I said, my voice even. “I was never expected to carry one into battle.”
“There. She refuses,” Tallon sighed, his arms dropping with exaggerated relief.
“However,” I added, my tone sharper, baiting him. “As pointed out, I cannot always rely on my guards. I would welcome instruction with a dagger.”
The Thresher shifted, his weight pressing into the floorboards. I resisted the impulse to turn, to reassure himhisefforts had never fallen short.
Tallon groaned. “Fine! Then you’ll train with me!”
“She trains with Jerek,” Kallias cut in, his words cold enough to frost the air. “You need the practice, Prince.”
His eyes narrowed. “Practice? For what? To fight in a war you ended?”
Jerek, silent until now, studied me from head to toe. His gaze lingered on my arms before he shifted and murmured, “Your Majesty, I’ve never trained a woman.”
“She is more than capable,” Kallias snapped, his voice steeled with irritation.
“She’s delicate. What weapon could she possibly–”
The king whirled on him, the blade master recoiling as his fury radiated like the sun. The measured mask he wore cracked, revealing the raw temper beneath. “She was raised amongdragons. Fragile is the last thing she is. She carries a blade of her own—make her use it.”
The arena stretched into silence. Greaves’ face tightened, his mouth pressed in disapproval. Tallon’s eyes flicked from me to his father, his shock evident in the part of his lips, his shrewd gaze calculating.
Kallias’ sword hung low, his grip tight, knuckles stark white against the hilt. Tension radiated from his shoulders, the anger pouring off him like heat.
“Your king gave you an order.” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “Maybe I should find another blade master.”
Jerek’s eyes widened, shifting to me.
This was all wrong. Kallias was Radaan’s king, but his actions didn’t reflect the man who’d always been in control. The question was, would people end up looking to me for the answers for his change in disposition—or would they come up with some other reasoning?
Jerek stepped back, bowing low, conceding to his authority. “I will train her.”
Kallias snarled, then spun away. As he turned, his eyes met mine. The fury in them cut deep, his sky blue gaze devoid of warmth. Only pain flickered there.
A dull ache spread through me. I wasn’t the only one suffering. I could cry over my own struggles—tied to Tallon when I longed for Kallias—but the truth was, his heart was breaking, too.
It was my father who signed my name to the marriage contract, but it was Kallias himself who boundhis son to me. He destroyed any chance of happiness with me when he swore on his honor as a king, and gave the promise of his nation that his heir would marry me.
Whereas I was just a casualty of the agreement, Kallias had fired the arrow that pierced both our hearts.
He stormed past me. I caught Tallon’s gaze.
