“Some poisons are measured by quantity, not potency.” Greaves sighed, taking his position by the door. “I do it for your sake.”
With a snort, I strode to the stone wall and leaned over, the chill in the air biting at my skin. I counted the months in my mind until the harvests ended. The south would keep their land producing year-round, while the north would begin with cold-hardy greens. But the warm-season crops would finish in a few months.
We needed our men in the fields, not fighting wars.
Unease churned in my gut. No dragons arrived yet, and the whirlstorms added uncertainty to the delivery of Nienna’s letter. A Velli stood on Radaan soil. I despised the thought of those monsters in my kingdom. They made me feel exposed, fragile.
And I loathed it.
If the Velli moved, I’d have to pull my men back to the Craggs. The loss of manpower to work the harvests and bring in food might balance out with the bodies left in the mountains. Another war wasn’t an easy choice, but perhaps it was necessary.
The door to the roof groaned open, pulling me from my thoughts. I breathed in, forcing my mind to calm as I turned to face her.
Nienna peeked through, her silhouette bathed in the warm glow of the palace. Dusk had already settled, and the crickets sang their evening chorus.
“If you would rather be alone…” she began.
I ignored the rest of her words, focused on how her eyes softened with concern. She fretted about me. A princess, worried for a king.
“Come,” I said, gesturing with a tilt of my head. Her frown eased, replaced by a hesitant smile as she crossed the threshold. She wore a red dress, the deep hue like blood.
It did not bode well for my evening.
The garment hugged her curves as she walked, swaying over black boots.
“You’re worried.”
Her attention did not drift to the fields or the sky above. She didn’t peer down at the queen’s garden, tangled and forgotten. No, her eyes—darkened by the fading light—focused on my face as she stood beside me.
I met her gaze, taking a slow sip of my cider, now lukewarm. “I don’t worry—I prepare.”
“What are you preparing for?”
A thrill ran through me when her stare lingered on my mouth.
Sun above, it had been too long since a woman looked at me that way.
“Everything.”
It came out more of a grunt than I intended, and my attention shifted to the fields again. She made a thoughtful noise, letting me simmer while I studied the borders. An oxcart had wandered too close to the wheat field. Its wheel trail cut through the chaff, leaving a disorganized path.
Daylight dimmed with the setting sun, yet she stayed beside me, leaning against the wall, silent but watchful. She didn’t press for conversation, nor did she pry. She was content with just being.
“Why are you here?” The question gnawed at me, buzzing like a fly too close to my ear.
The Velli’s arrival weighed heavily on me, and the absence of dragons was unsettling. My hunger for her was an unfamiliar ache. It all left me feeling young, unprepared.
And I was taking it out on her.
“I want to be.”
I blinked, frowning as I studied her dark silhouette. Her face was turned upward, eyes closed. The breeze tugged at her wavy hair, her presence still, serene.
I grunted, reaching for my empty mug, eager to escape the burden of the night—of everyone’s company, even hers.
“You owe me marriage advice.”
“I have none to give.” The words snarled from my throat, biting as I hated myself for lashing out but couldn’t stop. “My marriage was a torturous, miserable affair. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
