“Goodnight, Kallias.”
I started for the door, Greaves following. She wasn’t just a raging fire; she was a candlelight, flickering, brightening every room she entered. Her honesty, the ease with which she jested with me—it surprised me.
Perhaps the dragons had raised her with confidence, a sense of self that didn’t need approval. She would play the court’s game, but on her own terms.
The door clicked shut behind us.
“Kal.”
I paused at Greaves’ call, twisting to face him as I descended the staircase.
“Her guards,” he murmured, his tone low.
Curse it all. I’d been too caught up in her antics to notice. “She lost them.” I couldn’t help but smile, amused.
“Ordered them off, I’d wager.” He spoke in hushed tones, always so low no prying ears could hear. His brown eyes held warmth, a familiarity born from years of trying to lose each other in our youth.
“Go on then. I can manage, but I won’t risk her.”
He gave a short nod and spun back toward the balcony, his sword swaying with each step. Beneath his clothes, the weight of his plated leather armor shifted. She’d be safer with him by her side than with any of the castle guards.
I shook my head, descending the stairs alone. She was already smothered. When the Velli came, I’d have to tighten security even more.
Unease sifted through me at the thought of a Velli—ambassador or not—inmyhome? Meeting them on the border was one thing, butinvitingthem inside? It felt like a violation. I’d done everything to protect and preserve this palace, even when Eldeiade ruled in my stead.
With a steadying breath, my mask slid into place. Stern face, chin high, eyes cutting. The yoke pressed against me with every step, a chain of duty, one that reminded me why I was letting the Velli inside.
And why I was allowing Nienna to marry a man who wanted nothing to do with her.
Chapter Ten
Nienna
Irecited the names of Draconia’s bull dragons in silence, resisting the urge to cuff the prince. He lounged beside me, head tipped back as he stared at the ceiling, his arm slung behind a nobleman who sat a bit straighter. Every time I glanced his way, Tallon offered a smirk, his gaze pompous and haughty.
General Fallione loomed over the council room’s map, his finger tapping the jagged mountains that separated Vellos from Radaan. “We have enough to fortify the southern Craggs. But pull more men for the harvest, and we couldn’t fend off an attack to the north. I’m telling you, you need to leave each tower stationed with three companies at least.”
“Attack,” Tallon mocked under his breath.
Gyrak. Argos. Lyne. Tewar.
Kallias cast his son a cold look, then bent over the table, scrutinizing the range. “Those men are needed for the harvest; they’ve been promised a six month reprieve.” His thumb traced each watchtower on the map, a flicker of tension in his brow.
Tallon propped himself up, his smirk as cutting as a drawn blade. “We have a treaty signed by King Guntarri himself,” he drawled, voice oozing confidence. “Unless the reason we are allying with Draconia is because you’re nervous it won’t hold.”
The nobleman to his right murmured with faint interest, and I pressed my lips tight, biting back words that itched to escape. Most of the council held their tongues, unfazed, as if Tallon’s interruptions were as ordinary as the council’s own breath. But a handful—those younger members who wouldone day shoulder the kingdom beside the prince—watched him with a mix of curiosity and reluctant acceptance.
Kallias leaned forward, bracing his hands against the table, his glare pinning Tallon in place. The chains of his mantle swung just above the map, a gleaming reminder of his authority—hewas king. A silent rebuke.
Tension thickened, coiling like a storm cloud, as father and son waged a wordless battle with locked eyes.
Enough of Tallon.
“May I speak?” I asked, not waiting for an answer as I rose to my feet, the fabric of my dress whispering as I shook it into place.
Kallias’ gaze snapped to me, his brows tightening, as if weighing whether I might side with his son, challenging him in the open.
I was not so foolish.
