Kallias
Bloodlust coiled hot in my veins as I stalked through the corridors, every step an exercise in control. Decades of war tempered me, channeled the fury into a weapon. I wasn’t some young buck prone to losing composure. I had a task, and I would see it through.
Perhaps there would be satisfaction in it, but that was secondary.
My heartbeat stayed steady, a drumbeat forged in countless battles with the Velli. This confrontation wasn’t with an enemy, though—it was with family. My son.
Greaves was right. Tallon was my heir. Estranged or not, he bore my legacy. When Eldeiade died, I had hoped—foolishly, perhaps—that we could bridge the chasm between us. But the late queen’s venom lingered, years of whispers poisoning him against me.
Every title I bestowed, and olive branch offered, he tossed back with disdain. In time, I returned his coldness in kind. He played his games, and I focused on securing Radaan, preparing it to withstand the storm Tallon’s reign would bring.
But raising a hand to Nienna? That crossed a line—one impossible to ignore.
I shoved the door to his chambers open without hesitation. The sound echoed through the receiving room. Greaves hesitated behind me, but when he saw who lingered inside, he stepped in.
Egath flinched where he lounged on the sofa, his posture stiffening. I ignored him and strode toward Tallon, who leaned over a table, his palms pressed hardagainst its surface. A shattered vase lay in pieces on the floor, wine staining the rug like a fresh wound.
“See the ambassador out,” I ordered without sparing the Velli a glance.
Footsteps shuffled behind me, and the door clicked shut as Greaves escorted Egath away. My attention remained fixed on Tallon. Hatred radiated from him like heat from a forge. His disheveled hair framed a face twisted with scorn, and his wild eyes darted to the wine bottles scattered across another table.
The room stank of stale drink and arrogance.
It could have been his mother’s chambers—the same suffocating black-and-red decor, curtains drawn tight as though to block out reason itself. A sliver of light leaked through the edges, casting the chaos in an eerie glow.
“You’ve disgraced yourself,” I said.
Tallon barked a laugh, walking with a swagger that failed to mask his unease. “I’m a disgrace? That wench you expect me to bed–”
I launched, closing the distance in two strides. My fist snared a handful of his tunic, then slammed him into the table. His head jerked back, eyes wide with shock as he grabbed at me.
For a moment, the silence held. I had never laid a hand on him before—not once.
The disbelief in his face twisted into a sneer. “You already slept with her, didn’t you?”
Act. Don’t react.
My fist connected with his jaw before I had time to reconsider.
“You are a boy!” I snarled, my knuckles burning as they hovered near his nose.
He gasped beneath me, head lolled, chest heaving as he tried to mask his fear with defiance.
“She is a princess,” I hissed, my lip curling. “Not a tavern wench. Treat her with respect. Control your tongue, or I’ll curb it for you.”
“How exactly?” he spat. His green eyes burned with fury, but he didn’t look away. “You can’t make me do anything. I’m the prince!”
I leaned closer, letting him see the beast that stirred beneath my surface—the part of me forged in blood and fire. He recoiled, his boots scraping against the floor as he tried to push me off.
“Boy,” I said, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper, “I have removed countless tongues for less. What is one more?”
“You wouldn’t,” he stammered, his bravado cracking. “You hate bloodshed!”
A laugh rumbled from deep in my chest. “Your mother taught you that, didn’t she? But for Radaan, I would wade through rivers of blood.” Nienna’s face flashed in my mind, and I yanked Tallon upright, shaking him once for good measure. “I have turned a blind eye for too long. Start acting like a prince, or I will remove you from my line.”
The words fell from my lips with a weight that chilled me to my core. They rang through my mind, daring me to find a lie in them, one that might earn Elohios’ judgment, but none appeared.
What unsettled me most wasn’t the truth in my threat—it was that I’d said it aloud.
