“Please.” The king’s single word cut short, guarded—a welcome laced with challenge.
I approached the table, and two councilmen shifted their chairs aside, clearing my path. “You’re concerned with the Cragg’s defenses, but through our alliance, you have the might of dragonkind.”
“The union is not yet sealed.” His frown deepened, though his voice softened a shade.
“I’ve given the Dragon’s Kiss to Radaan.” My cheeks flushed as I spoke, the words like embers in my throat. “My dragons are yours, King Kallias. I’ll write to my father.”
The corner of that handsome mouth twitched, a flicker of intrigue at my boldness. I leaned over the map, stretching forward to trace the watchtowers with my fingertip, my gaze falling away from his piercing stare as heat crept up my cheeks.
“Five dragons would be an easy concession for Draconia. Keep two companies stationed at each tower, but position a rider at every other one. They can make the flight swiftly, sound an alarm, and stir up enough presence to hold a line.”
I forced down the knot in my throat as Tallon muttered something behind me, his voice like a burr against my thoughts. I straightened, wrestled my nerves into submission, and fixed a polite mask over my face. Kallias returned his focus to the map, eyes distant and thoughtful.
Shame prickled at me. I’d overstepped, spoken too brashly. It wasn’t my place to dictate strategy or troop placements; that was the war council’s domain. I was here as a bargaining chip—a princess promised to secure alliances and produce heirs—not to meddle in the kingdom’s defenses.
Not a strategist. A figurehead. A pawn.
Kallias lifted his gaze, meeting mine with an intensity that broke through my self-reproach. “And what accommodations do five dragons require?”
Relief washed over me, and my shoulders eased, the tension melting away at his question. “They need open sky, space to hunt.” I held his challenging stare, an unexpected thrill sparking in me. “And I understand the Craggs have an abundance of goats.”
“My father will be mortified you offered the goats.” Fyrn snickered as she led me back to my quarters.
“Claydon’sol has assured me he’s found the finest buck to sire the next generation.”
“Ah, yes. He prattles on and on about their coats. Apparently, their pelts and fibers are worth far more than their meat. Still—I must say—I’m happier here than in our manor.”
I raised a brow, curious.
“It doesn’t reek of livestock here.”
A laugh burst out, and I shook my head at her antics.
Claydon’sol lingered at court to secure a suitor for Fyrn, but she was proving to be quite the free spirit. To his credit, he allowed her to have the final say, and so far, she’d found none to her liking.
“Just two more nights of his musings,” she assured, giving my arm a gentle pat, “then he’ll be off to manage the manor, and we’ll be gloriously goat-free.”
“You’re staying, then?”
“I have a season pass. If I don’t find a husband by winter, I’ll return home.” She gave an exaggerated sigh, then flashed a playful smile. “That gives me months to peruse the goods! Oh!” She glanced over her shoulder at our guards, then down the corridor. “Would you like to watch the prince spar?”
Unease stirred beneath my skin, thick and unwelcome. The last thing I wanted was to spend another moment penned in a room with him. I’d sooner track down Claydon’sol to discuss goat pedigrees than endure more of Tallon’s smug smirks.
“The king has ordered His Highness to spar with him every day this week.”
A strange thrill fluttered low in my belly, one I quickly crushed. Why did the thought of watching Tallon fill me with dread, yet the idea of seeing his father sent my pulse racing?
Did they exchange blows outdoors beneath the searing sun or inside, where light filtered through high windows? Would Kallias shed his mantle, his yoke ofauthority? The way his clothing draped over his broad frame and trim waist was a silent testament to his strength—strength that hadn’t faded with age.
My mind drifted back to the warmth of his calloused hand brushing against mine, its roughness a memory I couldn’t shake.
“If you’d rather not–”
“No.” I forced the word out, shaking off the errant thoughts. “I’d love to watch Tallon fight, yes—very much.”
Fyrn smirked, and I caught that glint of mischief in her eyes. Did she think my awkward stumbles were for the prince—when I was actually thinking about his father?
“Tomorrow, then, after the council meets.” She hummed to herself as we continued along. “Tonight’s dinner will be quite the affair. An ambassador from the Ivetti Islands arrived. Word is they’ve come just to witness your wedding.”
