His boots thundered against the marble steps, drawing a few glances from visiting nobles. Those unfamiliar with his tantrums watched, wide-eyed. The rest ignored him.
With his chair vacant, my line of sight to Nienna was clear. Her back remained rigid, her composure strained. Egath’s hand brushed hers, and she recoiled, a flicker of discomfort flashing across her face. His murmured apology barely concealed his amusement.
Rage coiled hot and sharp in my veins. I drowned it with a swig of wine, though the desire to challenge the Velli to a duel lingered, gnawing at my restraint.
Whatever Griar’tal had to say, I doubted I would concentrate on any more horses tonight.
Chapter Nineteen
Nienna
Icouldn’t endure another moment. Kallias sat so near, his presence tangible, yet a chasm stretched between us. The unspoken confessions simmering within me—questions I longed to voice—clawed at my resolve. Egath’s silent proximity only sharpened the edge of my discomfort. A phantom stirring curled through my body, a sensation foreign and unsettling. I didn’t know enough about the Velli to determine if it was imagined or if Egath, tearing into his steak with disinterest, was the source.
Either way, I was done.
“I beg your leave, Your Majesty,” I murmured, pushing to my feet.
Kallias rose as well, setting off a ripple of movement through the hall as every guest followed suit. His calm, steady gaze held mine, and I froze under its weight.
“It’s been a long day,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate. “I will retire as well.”
Lowering my head, I stepped aside, hiding my turmoil. Before I could round the table, Kallias excused himself from his companion and extended his elbow.
The gesture was perfectly proper, nothing unusual. I swallowed hard, laying my palm on his arm, fighting to steady my breath. This wasn’t improper. It was customary for him to escort me in place of Tallon. Yet Egath’s sharp, lingering gaze burned where my hand rested. His smirk hinted at knowledge I preferred he didn’t possess.
Kallias led me out, and the impact of every stare pressed against my back. My pulse raced to a breakneck speed, drowning out the murmurs of the room.
Calm. This was normal. Acceptable.
The moment we cleared the dining hall, my fingers twitched, itching to pull away. The memory of last night blazed hot, leaving a pile of humiliated ashes in its wake. He hadn’t spoken to me since, aside from dinner. I knew why.
It was a mistake.
I initiated it, and he might have welcomed it, but I should have shown restraint. His arm beneath my hand radiated warmth, his closeness smothering. I wanted to tear away, lock myself in my room, and bury the shame.
But he turned, guiding me down a different corridor. Confusion prickled, and I glanced around, recognizing the path but puzzled by his choice. Why wasn’t he taking me to my quarters?
Unless he didn’t see it as a mistake.
A cursed flicker of hope kindled in my chest, and though I tried to extinguish it, my denial only fanned the flame.
He hadn’t spoken—was it restraint or hesitation? Was he leading me to privacy, where words weren’t necessary, where actions might resume what we’d begun?
Greaves followed at a measured pace, dismissing the guards who attempted to fall in line. His presence was deliberate, his loyalty assured. Had Kallias sworn him to secrecy, making him an accomplice in this unspoken arrangement?
The air thickened with the warm scent of cinnamon and cloves. Servants bustled past, bowing as they carried trays and supplies. Overgrown vines spilled from planters along the walls, their leaves twisting toward the glittering sandstone that reflected a soft golden light. Towers of greenery filled massive pots, and the entire hall exuded a rare, lived-in warmth, far from the cold grandeur of the noble courts.
The spice in the air deepened as we approached a door propped open. Servants flowed in and out with ease, greeting Kallias with familiarity. His replies were warm, his voice low and genuine, each word carrying a quiet reverence for his people. Heknewthem.
He was a good king.
I would ruin him.
The thought tightened my throat, splitting my emotions. Horror at the damage I could cause tangled with a giddy thrill. He was everything a ruler should be—honest, moral, beloved. Yet I tempted him. My presence alone had the power to erode his perfection, to stain his legacy.
The idea left me breathless.
Kallias rounded the corner, stepping into a room heavy with heat and moisture. My grin widened as my gaze landed on the snug kitchen carved into the wall. It was tiny—smaller than my dressing room—but alive with activity. Steam curled from several pots bubbling on a modest stove, the humid air thick with the mingling scents of simmering spices.
