My shoulders shook. My arms tightened around me, nails digging into flesh. I could feel the pain. This wasn’t a dream—it was a waking nightmare.
She was dead.
I collapsed in on myself, crumbling into the grief, my breath hitching. Guards charged through the palace, hunting the assassins, oblivious to the fact that I lost my best friend.
“Nienna, tell me what you need.” Kallias’ voice cracked, worn thin by the late hour.
“Nothing.” The word burned as I forced it out.
My back stiffened, but the effort to straighten crumbled beneath the pressure of another sob. My teeth sank into the flesh of my cheek. Nails bit into my arms, leaving crescents in tender skin. I was a princess. I was trained for this. It didn’t matter that I wanted to crumble, that I was desperate to be anything but the strong one.
Tallon wouldn’t be here when the next attempt came.
I had to do this alone.
“Tell me how to help you!”
“You can’t!” I shrieked, my gaze snapping to his. Though my vision blurred with tears, I saw his body tense. “You can’t,” I repeated, hissing through my teeth.
I longed for my brother and Gyrak, for my father and Argos. The Nest, the smell of sunshine and sea, was a thousand times better than this palace. The stench of rot lingered here, choking every breath.
Kallias closed the distance between us, his grip seizing my chin, forcing me to hold his gaze. “I am the king of Radaan. You do not get to tell me what I cannot do.”
My body chose that moment to collapse. The world spun as my legs gave way.
Then—I wasn’t falling anymore.
Kallias lifted me. His arm cradled me beneath the knees, the other holding me tight against his chest. Then he strode through his rooms until we reached his bedchambers.
“No one comes in except Greaves.” He ordered, and the guards bowed, retreating with quick steps.
The two beds made the space feel even smaller than mine. Both were mussed as though they had only just roused. A desk sat in the corner, a washbasin nearby. Several small dressers and trunks rounded out the sparse furnishings.
He set me on my feet near the bed furthest from the door. I shuddered, clinging to his arms for balance, the wave of helplessness crashing over me.
Scythe was killed. An assassin tried to kill me. And now, here I was, in the king’s rooms, drenched in blood.
He stood half-dressed, his expression hardening as if he wanted to murder someone. “Your handmaiden?”
“Dead.” I choked on the word, dropping my gaze. I couldn’t meet the fire in his stare.
I tracked the scars crisscrossing his body, a map of battles etched in pale white and angry pink against his skin. Thin lines and jagged edges streaked his chest and stomach, but one scar stood out—thick and gnarled, carving through the dark hair over his heart like a cruel brand.
A wave of shame surged through me, sharp and suffocating. It pressed against my ribs, stealing air as my thoughts spiraled. This shouldn’t have happened. None of it. She wasn’t meant to die. He wasn’t supposed to be the one holding me.
“Sit.” The word was a command, low and quiet, but unrelenting.
My legs moved before I could think, folding beneath me as I sank onto the bed. My eyes stayed rooted to the floor, the worn grain of the wood blurring under my focus. I refused to look at him—not now. Regret already coiled in my stomach, cold and heavy. This was a mistake, a reckless misstep we’d both carry.
My breath faltered, a shallow hitch I couldn’t smother. The questions would come. They always did. He’d demand to know how I found the passages, what secrets I stumbled on, what truths I overheard. And I had no answers—none I was ready to give.
“The escape routes connect to the royals’ chambers and a few dignitaries’ quarters. They’re sealed.” The slosh of water punctuated his words, rippling through the tense air. “Greaves will find them.”
“What about you?” My chest tightened as my gaze flicked to the open door leading to the passages. Shadows pooled there, an endless void. “What if they double back?”
Kallias drew a sharp breath, stepping between me and the doorway, his frame blocking my view. A scabbard and belt dangled from one hand, the other clutching a damp cloth that dripped along the floor.
“I wish they would.” His voice was a low growl, thick with menace.
