He was right. I didn’t want him in the room—not with Nienna. The idea of sharing a bed with a woman still felt foreign. If she even wanted that. My jaw clenched, and I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. She wasn’t Eldeiade. She craved closeness, not distance.
Which meant things would happen.
The thought raked fire across my skin. I pushed it down. Then shoved harder when more images tried to claw their way forward. No, I wouldn’t want Greaves there. But he had to be near. The receiving room was too exposed. He was right. It wasn’t an appropriate place for him.
Fallione would have a plan. He always did.
If I was to face a future in Radaan, I’d need both Nienna and Greaves at my side.
Bang!
I rolled before my mind caught up. Cold steel bit into my palm as I hit the floor. Dagger gripped tight, I braced against the mattress just as Greaves burst through the doorway.
A sharp grunt had me vaulting over the bed and toward the attacker.
“Call off your dog,” Ronan choked.
Greaves held him in the half-light, blade bare against his throat. His arm locked around the prince’s chest, and though he looked reluctant, he let go as soon as the prince spoke.
He was only a guard.
“Knock next time,” I snapped, pushing hair from my face. He knew better. Greaves nearly carved him open.
“I came to fetch you—a courtesy. This is how I’m thanked?” He dusted off his riding leathers, smirking. Gods, did he ever wear anything else?
“Who sent for me?” I growled, breath short and sharp. My heart still hammered from the chaos. I sucked in air, forced my lungs to slow, reminding my body I was not, in fact, dying.
“I did.”
My gaze shot past Ronan as a shape pulled free from the dark.
Nereus.
White hair stark against bronze skin. His eyes dragged down my bare torso, pausing low. His expression soured, upper lip curling in disgust as he locked onto the faint handprint glowing on my stomach.
Elohios, guide me.
“Ronan. Hall.” The king’s voice cracked like dry wood, rough and dangerous. His hand rested on the silver pommel at his hip, knuckles bone-white.
Greaves moved in beside me, close and coiled. My pulse drummed in my ears, but I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin.
Ronan’s expression froze, disbelief flickering behind his eyes as his gaze dropped to my chest. He gave a low whistle, dragged a hand through his hair, then turned and walked out, leaving me with the father of the girl whose name glowed across my skin.
“Have you broken yet another oath, Kallias Sunspear?” Nereus’ glare burned through me, tone cracked at the edge like ice under strain.
“If I bedded your daughter, I would have far more handprints on me.”
Anger melded with guilt, swelling inside me. Was there no privacy in this palace? He woke me in the dead of night, and stood fully clothed in dark leather while I wore naught but my underbreeches.
He bared his teeth in response, and I turned toward the dressing room. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching from this power play. If he had something to say, he could do so while I dressed.
“What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait for morning?” I asked, tossing the dagger aside and dragging a white tunic over my head. The script on my chest dulled beneath the cloth.
Greaves moved fast, tugging on his own clothes, a blade always within reach.
“I came out of courtesy. Respect that.” Nereus loomed in the doorway like a storm held together by bone and rage. “Dress for a walk. But one you may not survive.”
I barked a dry laugh, stepping into my trousers. “Threatening me now?”
