Desire ached in me at the thought of him teaching me. To feel his arms around me, to have him pull me close. I wanted the heat of his breath against my ear, but none of that would come.
His mask faltered. Anger flared in his gaze, followed by something softer—pain, resignation.
“No insult was taken.” I forced a smile, tight and brittle. “Thank you for the offer, but I think I’ll rely on my own wits.”
“Until I can train you,” Tallon added. His voice twisted in my gut. I knew his idea of training. He would try to kill me—this much was certain. “Stay. Watch me and my father. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
“If the king would permit it,” I murmured, meeting Kallias’ gaze. His expression shuttered again.
“Jerek, you’re dismissed. Princess, if you’d like to remain, stand by Greaves.” Kallias’ voice was low as he turned to face the arena.
Jerek offered a bow and made his way toward the stairs, exiting the hall.
Tallon’s gaze tracked me as I approached Greaves. The guard adjusted his stance, positioning himself between us. A small move, yet it spoke volumes in his protective role.
“Tallon,” Kallias called, summoning him to the ring. The prince obeyed, a wicked grin curling his lips.
Soon, I understood why.
A tightness in my wrist flickered first, followed by a slow, creeping sensation that felt like something was prodding my insides. It was him. Somehow, he had found a way to do what Egath had done—but with far less control.
A cold wave of dread washed over me. Could Tallon be part Velli? Was he a true bastard, sired by a Velli noble?
His gaze locked with mine over Kallias’ shoulder. Those green irises glittered with dark amusement.
My stomach churned. I pressed my hand to it, eyes wide with growing horror.
“Princess?”
Greaves’ voice rasped with concern, but it was cut short by a vicious hiss from Kallias. He staggered back, wiping at his arm. Crimson soaked through his tunic. Greaves let out a strangled sound, stepping closer.
“Still fit to rule a kingdom, Father?”
Kallias’ gaze flicked to me for a breath before he raised a hand to stop his guard. “You know nothing of ruling.”
“Court the nobles, gather advisors, form alliances.” A leer twisted his lips as his glare slid to me. “Fill a queen with heirs.”
Kallias exploded.
He lunged, knocking the leer from his face. Tallon yelped, the sound swallowed by the harsh rhythm of blows his father rained down. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Kallias at full strength. His boots kicked up sand, shoulders straining with the power of his strikes in spite of his wounds from the Hunt.
Greaves’ hands remained empty, clenched into tight fists, his helplessness palpable.
Tallon backed up, throwing frantic blocks. His foot caught, and Kallias charged. He slammed into the prince, knocking him to the ground with a thud. Greaves relaxed, stepping back to stand at my side while the king loomed over his son, sword hovering at his throat.
His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his growl too low for me to hear. The weapon’s tip pressed against Tallon’s skin.
One breath.
Two.
Finally, Kallias stepped back, shaking his head. He stormed toward me, sheathing his sword with a sharp motion, his fury now turned on me.
“I will escort you to your rooms.”
Just like that, the fight ended. The king had put the prince in his place. I had failed in my training.
Tallon rolled onto his side, his raven hair matted with sand. I expected rage, accusation—but what I saw instead sent a chill through me.
