My fingers brushed against the cold railing, its surface fashioned into a vine. Leaves curled underneath, creating a natural cradle for hands that brushed along the metal. As I lifted my foot to begin climbing, I froze, crouching with a breathless laugh of disbelief.
The stairs, though smooth, were carved with intricate scenes. Beneath my feet, lily pads and fish swam. I paused, watching the depiction of a frog’s life cycle unfold before me, from eggs at the lowest steps to a tadpole that grew and sprouted legs. Higher still, the tadpole became a tailed frog, and at the top, it shed its tail.
I grinned at the last step, where the frog seemed to smile back, its tiny form etched in the stone. As I shook my head, the weight of the night lifted from my shoulders. If frogs could grin like that, perhaps I could tolerate Tallon’s behavior for a while longer.
The balcony was just ahead, a doorway framed by the twilight sky. When I stepped outside, a cool breeze rushed over, tugging at my dress. Fresh air wrapped around me—a welcomed embrace.
The sandstone wall was waist-high, its surface glowing in the last rays of the sun. My hands spread over its warm edge and I leaned into the breeze, letting it pull at my hair like a banner. I laughed, breathless, the wind cutting through me, a sensation that felt as freeing as being on dragonback.
I closed my eyes and let the fading sunlight wash over me. The cool air tugged at my skin, a fleeting comfort in the stillness. The world slowed, and I stood grounded, untouched by its relentless demands.
Just one brief moment—where I could remember who I was, not the pawn I had become.
Just a moment.
Chapter Nine
Kallias
She shot from the balcony door to the wall with a level of speed that caught me off guard. I twisted, settling one elbow against the sandstone, just as she spread her hands and pitched forward, braced as if to fall.
Beside me, Greaves flinched, a small movement betraying his impulse to reach out, as if he might somehow hold her back. My pulse thundered, a rush of adrenaline as I realized how far she was from my reach—I wouldn’t catch her.
Thank Elohios—she drew in a breath, her eyes closing as the breeze washed over her. My shoulders softened, tension easing from my muscles. I swirled the cup in my hand, staying silent. Behind me, Greaves held his ground, my constant shadow.
Amber sunlight stretched across her golden hair, catching strands and drawing them back like ripe wheat bending under a warm wind. Her deep green dress would have the high ladies whispering with either envy or disdain, half of them plotting to replicate the style by morning.
An emerald collar hugged her neck, as did the fabric that molded to her torso, accentuating her shape before it fell to her hips and flared. The front hem cut slightly shorter than the back, revealing those ever-present leggings and boots.
A mark of her heritage. A reminder of who she was to me—a promise of peace.
“You survive a runaway horse,” I called, drawing her startled gaze as she whirled toward me. “Yet you seem perilously close to throwing yourself over the edge.” A faint smile pulled at my lips.
Her eyes sparked, and she dipped her head, hands clasped demurely before her. “King Kallias, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Something in the formality twisted inside me, her calling me king, as though it put a wall between us. She was a free spirit, fire-lit and untamed, her sharpness softened only by the loyalty she showed with Tallon, her claws sheathed but always ready.
“Kallias,” I corrected, sighing as I swirled my drink again, gaze drifting back to Radaan. “Call me Kallias.”
“I’m sure there’s a law somewhere that requires me to use your title,” she murmured, strolling over to lean against the wall beside me.
Maybe I should have kept my guard up, worn the cold mask I reserved for everyone else. But I came here to escape the weight of politics. Eldeiade never followed—she wouldn’t dare risk her hair to the breeze.
Nienna had burst through the door, unbothered by wind or decorum, a clear sign she’d tired of the pretense and its demands.
“And I’m sure there are rules about a prince letting a princess ride an untested horse,” I grunted, taking a sip from my mug. Heat spilled down my throat, the spice coaxing a fire within.
“I usually keep my seat.” Her tone turned indignant.
I cast her a sidelong glance, catching the furrow deepening between her brows.
“I’ve just never ridden in open country before,” she said.
“Open country?”
She sighed and braced her forearms on the wall, peering at the gardens below. Where Tallon shied from heights, she seemed to revel in them.
“Draconia is… not small. Perhaps it is, by your standards.” She let out a nervous laugh. “But we own the seas, not the plains. Horses are few, ridden only within the cities. They have no space to run free. I’ve always been confined when in the saddle.”
