Pay my penance.
Shame made it hard to keep my head held high. I knew better. I never should’ve brought her to the library. Never should have allowed myself to be alone with her. Why she seemed to be attracted to me, I couldn’t fathom—but Elohios knew how much I wanted her.
She wasn’t mine to want.
I reached my chambers and threw the door open with more force than intended. The loud crack made me wince. I despised losing control. There was nothing worse than leadership that couldn’t control their temper—or desires. A man ruled themselves first, or they ruled nothing at all.
Greaves entered after me, quiet and composed. I yanked my tunic off and tossed it aside before attacking the buckle at my waist. My silence spoke for me—there was no excuse for what I’d done. None that I dared to offer. The clasp resisted, and with a frustrated breath, I stilled my hands and closed my eyes.
At least it had been Greaves who found us. His loyalty was unshakable. He wouldn’t speak of my lapse in judgment. That much I could trust. But did Nienna know that?
A fresh wave of dread surged through me. Did she think her reputation was ruined? Had I left her to believe the worst?
My eyes snapped open as Greaves poured water into the basin. The water’s soft slosh seemed too loud in the room’s silence. He prepared for me to wash and retire to bed—where I should have been all along—not stealing moments with my son’s future wife in the dead of night.
The buckle finally gave, and I let it hang loose as I sank onto the edge of my bed. My fingers threaded through my hair, but the memory of her touch made my chest tighten. I dragged my hands down my face, pressing them over my mouth as I met Greaves’ pointed glare.
“You realize how old you are?” he asked, tone sharp, arms folded as he leaned against the dresser.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
He grunted, unimpressed, but said no more. Ishouldhave had more restraint. I was old enough to know better. It had been nearly twenty years since I’d last lain with a woman, not for lack of offers. A few courtiers had tried their hand, but after Eldeiade… I had no desire to entangle myself in that again. Or so I thought.
I stared at the floor, hands cradling my head. Nienna had to know it was a mistake. A lapse. One no one could ever discover. If she let it slip to her handmaid, and the rumors reached my staff, everything would crumble. Tallon would demand I send her back to Draconia with her reputation in tatters, and risk sending their dragons in righteous revenge. My name—Elohios-blessed—would rot under my own hypocrisy. The nobles would turn. My generals would abandon me. I would fall, undone by my inability to control my desires.
Cold water hit me like a thunderclap. I jerked to my feet, sputtering.
Greaves stood there, empty pitcher in hand. His raised brow and faint shrug offered no apology. “Perhaps now you’ll get some sleep,” he said.
I glared, muttering something about finding a new bodyguard, but peeled off my soaked clothes and donned dry trousers. Greaves took up his post by the door, arms crossed, as though I couldn’t be trusted to stay in my bed.
I climbed under the covers, turning my back to him. My fingers combed through damp hair, smoothing it away from my face, but rest wouldn’t come. My mind circled endlessly, trapped in a storm of guilt and regret.
She wasn’t at the council meeting. The droning nobles argued over flax taxes, but the words slipped past me. My shoulders stiffened beneath Radaan’s mantle, the fabric’s ornate trim biting into my skin. Its heaviness mirrored the guilt coiled deep in my soul, pressing harder today than ever.
No one else knew. Yet every glance in my direction felt like a blade, sharp with unspoken accusation.
Her absence struck like a missing heartbeat. Tallon, however, was present—lounging with Verard’gog, his indifference to governance plain. The place to my right remained empty. His chair. One day, I imagined, he might sit there and actually care about such matters. But today, the thought rang hollow.
At least Nienna understood duty. Though new to Radaan, she had a grasp on the kingdom’s needs and an unflinching loyalty to its people. She’d make a worthy queen.
Her body, soft beneath me, flared in my thoughts. The memory burned—the press of her lips, her quiet moans.
Don’t you dare stop.
A grimace twisted my face. I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing my focus back to the present. Safer ground for a treacherous mind.
“The tax on wool is far less! And what about the goats Claydon’sol raises? Is he even taxed?”
“The Sols pay their share, as required by law,” I answered, sharper than intended.
“Wool is scarcer and more labor-intensive. You can’t compare them.” Another noble’s protest rippled through the chamber. Their squabbling sent jabbing pulses behind my temples.
Tallon chuckled. My glare snapped to him. He faced Verard, entirely disengaged. The sight stirred an impulse to drag him into the debate, though I knew it would only end in embarrassment—for us both.
Even basic tasks, like preparing for the Velli reception, had proven beyond him. His choice of attire for Nienna was a mockery—but she owned it. He meant to humiliate her, but instead, every eye in the room was drawn to her bold defiance.
Elohios help me, I couldn’t look away. The sheer fabric clung to her, a second skin that left nothing hidden.
