Or him?
His jaw clenched as he studied my reaction. “I should have told you. But in Radaan, I assumed you’d marry Tallon. It wouldn’t have mattered. And once I left for Draconia, all I thought of was you. Not future babes.”
“It does not change anything, Kallias.” I reached for his arm, grounding him. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Consider it, Nienna. You’re young. I’m twice your age. If I die before you, you’ll desire companionship, maybe even children. And think of your people. Draconia will want an heir out of you, not just Ronan. I can’t give you that.”
He dragged a hand over his face, eyes hollowed out with guilt. “I should’ve thought it through. I can’t promise you a child.” His gaze met mine, steady and grave. “Do you still want this?”
I blinked, rage warming my chest, but it wasn’t for him. The weight on his shoulders spoke of shame, not indifference. This was not about me at all. This was abouther—the wife who came before me.
I stood and reached for his chair. When I couldn’t move it, he frowned and helped turn it. I straddled his lap and settled close.
His hands gripped my hips. Not possessive, just needing contact. Hunger flickered in his gaze, shadowed by pain.
My fingers threaded into his hair, brushing the strands back. “I want you. I’veonlyever wanted you. If we aren’t blessed with a child, then we’ll shape another legacy. We are not defined by bloodlines.”
“I feel less of a man,” he whispered. His eyes closed. “As if I am not worthy of you.”
I cupped his face, thumb resting at his temple. He leaned into the touch with a soft, yielding motion.
“You crossed the sea. Braved dragons. Risked everything—forme.And you believe you’re unworthy?”
“No one deserves you,” he murmured, lips brushing my palm. “You are dragonfire and sunlight. A queen waiting to rise.”
“And you are my king—tempered steel and searing heat. Exactly what I need. What I want. I will have no other.”
I bent to place my lips on his, sealing that promise with a kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nienna
Father allowed Kallias to sit beside me at the dining table. Thick bread soaked in soup filled the air with a savory promise—a fraction of what Radaan might offer Draconia through our union. The meal ended too soon. I watched my father and brother disappear with Kallias, the urge to follow tugging at me.
But some matters belonged to men alone. They’d press him about heirs, testing the waters I wasn’t sure he was ready to wade.
To the world, Tallon stood as his son—next in line should Kallias fall. But an illegitimate heir held no real claim.
Mine would.
I excused myself and walked toward the kitchens, tremulous thoughts fraying at the edges. Did I even want a child? I was a princess—boiled down to a womb. That was my value. Through my children, alliances would be solidified and Draconia and Radaan would have a peace bound by blood.
Kings sired heirs. That was their duty. My parents were considered unlucky, with only two children and just one male. Other kingdoms birthed many, insurance against plague, war, or misfortune.
If I failed to produce an heir, would Radaan see me as broken? A curse? They believed Tallon was a trueborn son. And after Veridis—after I claimed her at the Celebration of Life?
I could find joy in Kallias. I needed no one else. But would that be enough for them?
The kitchen door groaned as I stepped inside. Steam licked my face. The scent of fish, roasted herbs, and baked grain lingered in the air, warm and earthy. Staff moved in a tide of clinks and soft chatter, nodding as they swept past, hands full of plates.
Gertrude’s smile bloomed the moment she saw me. Her hair, pinned into a tight bun, had loosened wisps glowing silver in the light.
“Nienna! Princess, what brings you here?” she gasped, dropping into a low bow. Master of the Spire’s meals, and longtime smuggler of pastries.
“I need bean tea.”
Her brow puckered. She blinked twice, tilted her head, confused. “Bean tea?”
