It gnawed at me throughout the rest of the dinner. I should have spoken to him first, rather than taking matters into my own hands. I wasn’t part of this kingdom yet, held no claim to its customs. My actions had been an overstep—and I feared I’d made him look foolish.
I couldn’t care less if Tallon had been embarrassed—but Kallias? He was far more perceptive than his son, more capable of understanding the nuances of diplomacy. He didn’t deserve that.
The frogs vanished beneath my boots as I reached the end of the stairwell. I paused at the balcony door, steadying my breath, then pushed it open and scanned the rooftop before stepping into the twilight. The sight that met me froze me in place.
Kallias leaned against the stone wall facing me, elbows braced, his head tilted back, eyes closed. With the strain of his posture, his overcoat pulled taut, the top button undone. His legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, as if he had all the time in the world.
The door clicked shut behind me, and he jerked. His cornflower blue gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable, his expression set with a hint of irritation. He straightened with slow deliberation, rolling his shoulders, and the air thickened with unspoken tension.
I forced my composure back into place and sank into a deep curtsy. “My apologies for tonight, Your Majesty. I should have sought your–”
“Rise.” His voice was tight, his jaw clenched as he towered over me.
I cringed inwardly, wondering if I’d undone the fragile goodwill between us.
“Was it not ‘Kallias’ yesterday?” he asked.
I stole a glance at Greaves, who chose that moment to examine his nails.
“I owe you my thanks,” he said.
When I straightened, my hands clasped in front of my dress. The fading sunlight caught his silvering hair, setting it ablaze with a soft glow. His hand twitched at his side, a brief wince crossing his face before he averted his gaze, fixing it on the patchwork fields stretching into the distance.
“It was a misstep—one you remedied.” He exhaled long and slow, then turned to me, nodding once. “You have my thanks for saving our reputation with the Ivetti.”
“Their princess visited Draconia in the quiet season. I know their ways well.”
“Perhaps I should put you in charge of cultural relations,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight onto his heels.
The ease in his stance, paired with the teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, made him appear younger. I couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at my own lips.
“I would love to help,” I said, my excitement clear. The thought of meaningful work, instead of endless socializing, would be a welcome breath of fresh air.
“I jest.”
“No! Really,” I protested, watching his smile fade into a thin line. The shift was as abrupt as a door slamming shut. “If Radaan is to be my home, I have a duty to help in any way I can.”
He turned away from me, his expression hardening as he walked toward the wall. His hands remained in his pockets, but the ease of a moment ago had vanished, replaced by a quiet tension.
“I apologize if I overstepped.” I stepped closer, uncertain where things had gone astray. One instant, he was open, almost tender; the next, he shut me and the world out.
“You did nothing wrong.” His voice was tight, and a forced smile twisted his lips as he exhaled a heavy sigh.
Silence stretched, thick and unyielding. I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. The wind lifted my hair, pulling it away from my face, and I smiled, letting the breeze wash over me. For a fleeting moment, I soaked up the memory of flying.
“Goodnight.”
I hated the way my chest tightened as he took his leave, the soft rhythm of his steps swallowed by the rising wind. It felt as if I’d done something terribly wrong.
Chapter Eleven
Kallias
The way her gaze trailed me, eyes wide, lips parted—that blue stare studied my body with such curiosity it woke something–
“Do you need help with the buttons?”
Greaves’ low voice jarred me from my thoughts, and I glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
