“Kallias.”
I froze, my boots anchoring to the cool, sparkling sandstone. My gaze shot to Greaves, a silent plea for his aid.
Her voice—commanding, demanding—struck deep. It was the essence of a queen addressing her subject, the tone of a lover scorned.
The man exhaled, his brows rising as he stared at the ground. I’d opened that door, and now I had to face the consequences. My response would either drive her away, shattering whatever fragile connection we’d built, or it would break down another wall between us.
She was Tallon’s betrothed. A union forged in the name of alliance. She was safe from me, as I was from her.
Her hand found my shoulder, searing through the thick fabric of my overcoat. “It’s one Velli. Your people are safe.”
Elohios above, how did she know?
“This is the single place I swore they would never set foot in again.” The words grated from my throat. “You’ve never seen them fight, Nienna. Never felt the power they wield.”
Bile crawled up, remembering the soldiers torn apart in front of me. Velli drank their blood as though it were water. Men stripped of their will, forced into combat against comrades. Faces of those I had known—fighting by my side—dying on my sword, their bodies puppets controlled by the enemy. She never–
“I haven’t.” Her voice, soft and steady, pulled me from my recollections. She caught my hand, her grip warm. “Tell me.”
And I knew she would listen. She would sit with me all night if necessary, letting me relive my worst memories. She would bear it, share it with me. But she shouldn’t. She was too pure, too innocent. She didn’t need to carry my nightmares. Radaan’s burden was mine alone to bear.
“My advice for tonight is this,” I said, easing her fingers off, ignoring the brief flicker of hurt in her eyes. “Do not touch a man who is not your betrothed.”
Her hand jerked from my shoulder, and she sucked in a breath, stepping back. I ground my teeth and stormed for the door, leaving her alone in the darkening silence of the roof.
Chapter Fifteen
Nienna
“You’re wrong.” I snapped, storming through the door and slamming it behind me. Not that it slammed—there was something maddening about how smoothly it closed, as though it refused to match my frustration.
Scythe jolted upright from the sofa, her eyes wide and disoriented. “I’m never wrong!”
“He doesn’t like me.” I threw my hands at the back of my dress, fumbling with the lacing. The cords were out of reach, teasing me as my anger mounted.
“Trust me,” she said, trailing behind as I stormed to the bathing chambers, “he ogled you like a sticky bun, just waiting to devour you!”
“Well, devour, he did—a dragon with its meal.”
She froze, her grin flashing as she reached me. “That good, eh?”
“Ugh!” I shoved her away, struggling with the dress. The laces snagged, and I yanked it over my head, getting it caught on my shoulders. “He was upset tonight, so I thought, what’s the harm? I should make sure he’s all right.”
“You. Seeing if thekingwas fine?”
I seethed as she giggled, tugging at the laces.
“We were enjoying each other’s company,” I muttered from beneath the dress now tangled around my head.
“Oh?”
“—in silence! And I simply asked what was wrong.”
“Mm-hmm?” She yanked a lace loose with a quick tug, the snap echoing through the room, followed by a quiet whimper.
“I put my hand on his arm–”
“You touched him?!” Scythe’s voice was a delighted squeal as she jerked the dress off my head, sending herself stumbling backward. “Was it like when you and the prince touched?”
