Thrill.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nienna
Days blurred into one another, each sunrise a dull repetition. The only constant was Fyrn. She arranged social calls, took me to tea with noblewomen, and guided me through the gardens, pointing out hidden pieces of art.
My soul was torn between Kallias’ icy presence and the constant pressure of Tallon.
I missed Scythe—her sharp wit, her comfort.
Edith sat nearby, knitting with quiet focus, her eyes flickering to me every so often, laden with concern. The ache behind my ribs deepened. Alone. In love with a king who could never return it. Given to a prince who loathed me. And now I wondered if Tallon’s blood was tainted by the same darkness that clouded his soul.
Endless questions remained unanswered, and Kallias’ cold distance made them even harder to reach.
I buried myself in books, devouring every scrap of information on the Velli—though there was little to be found. Perhaps I was searching in the wrong places. Radaan’s palace wasn’t likely to hold various texts about their enemies, especially after so many years of conflict.
Tallon’s birth didn’t concern me as much as how to survive our wedding night. I knew he would savor my pain. I needed leverage to keep him at bay, something to protect the fragile remnants of my spirit. If he forced himself on me, it would destroy what little was left.
Fyrn remained my one true friend, the only source of any comfort. When she sent a message summoning me to the stables, a flicker of hope sparked within me. It was unusual for her to send a message instead of coming for me herself—perhaps a surprise. It had been too long since I’d set foot outside the suffocating confines of the palace walls. I longed to see more of Radaan, but for now, Reem would do.
I dressed in a simple riding dress—a blue garment with pale breeches beneath. After I secured my dagger to my thigh, a sharp ache ran through me, a reminder of who’d given it to me.
But that was over.
Whatever we had was done.
Lynx, unaffected by the sparring incident, trailed behind me, a silent shadow. Thanks to Fyrn’s help during those long, tedious days, I knew the halls well now.
The guards opened the courtyard doors, and the sun’s heat hit me as I crossed the western garden toward the stables.
They were built into the stone wall separating Reem from the palace, much like the temples. Eager horses and busy stablehands filled the air with a lively, comforting din. As I stepped into the shade of the first stable, I slowed my pace, scanning for any sign of Fyrn.
A white horse thrust its head from a stall, letting out a soft wicker, its ears pricked forward. I smiled, reaching out to stroke its velvety nose. I wasn’t afraid of horses, even though I feared riding them.
“Have you seen my friend?” I asked the creature, my gaze drifting down the aisle.
The horse huffed, sniffing my dress as if it expected treats. I chuckled, patting its mane before continuing.
The stablehands made themselves scarce; the work here had already finished. Clean aisles stretched before me, free of hay, while the horses were content in their stalls, preoccupied with their breakfast.
A sense of calm settled over the barn, the only sound the quiet munching of oats. I hummed, enjoying the stillness. In the palace, there was no peace. My rooms were the only place that offered an escape from the endless noise, the whispers, and the expectations surrounding my impending wedding. The day loomed over me like a storm cloud.
The air was growing colder. Draconia savored the chill, as it signaled the end of the whirlstorm season, a cause for celebration. Here, it only marked the approach of my doom.
A sudden cry shattered my thoughts. I stiffened, scanning the aisle.
Another muffled scream followed, cutting through the stillness.
I froze, skimming the rows of wooden stalls. Then Lynx’s imposing figure loomed into my space, his presence suffocating.
The sound wasn’t one of a threat—it was pain. Someone was hurt. I crept forward, Lynx at my side, moving with caution. The horses ignored me, their heads bent to their grain as I peered into each empty stall, searching for the source of the cries.
“Come on!” The hiss was sharp, followed by the sickening crack of a hand striking flesh.
My spine stiffened, a cold breath catching in my lungs.
Kallias would never tolerate violence within his walls. Neither would I.
