My eye twitched. A flinch I didn’t catch in time. “If I say no—gods help me, if I ever do—respect it.”
“I will.” No hesitation. No pause. Just her word. She didn’t know how much that meant to me.
“Come here,” I said, pulling her to my chest. “I don’t mean to push you away. But there are things I have to keep for myself.”
I wouldn’t tell her about Eldeiade. Or what happened in my nightmare. That horror belonged to me alone. She didn’t need to carry it—or see me through it. That wasn’t part of the life I promised her.
I brushed her hair back and wrapped my hand around her waist, holding her there in the quiet.
“My past is mine,” I murmured. “But my future is yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nienna
The next day, Kallias appeared as if nothing had happened. If I hadn’t seen the anguish twisting his expression, the way he fought Greaves off like a man cornered, I would’ve doubted my own memory.
He walked proud. Shoulders loose, stride fluid, the chains of his mantle swaying with each step. His hair had been combed, face calm, the bruised shadows beneath his eyes faint but there.
He took his place at the table like a man born to it, launching back into negotiations without hesitation. Greaves had mentioned he’d slept poorly the night before. I witnessed the nightmare claw its way free. I heard the broken sound in his voice.
But I didn’t understand the cause.
A quiet ache curled through my chest. His last marriage had been miserable—abusive, if I dared name it. And here I was, dragging him into another. He’d chosen solitude, carrying Radaan on his back, content to shoulder its weight alone. Then I crashed into his world.
Our love was neither simple nor planned. But it was real.
Mother and Father carried the discussion forward, and I stayed seated beside them, silent, listening. They didn’t brief him in private beforehand—it showedyesterday. He’d need my insight in time, but I couldn’t make it obvious I favored him over my family.
“You want my men on the Wild Shores, where your dragons refuse to linger?” Kallias tilted his head, his tone unreadable.
“We can negotiate a fair wage,” Father answered with a sigh. “But your people bring knowledge. Mine understand the tides, not the timberlands. I’m asking for shared labor. Our hands, your minds.”
Fallione bent closer and murmured into his king’s ear. He leaned into him, considering.
“I will trade Vessels,” he said at last.
Father’s hum was low, pleased.
Kallias understood Draconis worked abroad—our Vessels traveled to the islands of the Kulletti, the Innaki, the Ivetti. If riders could ferry them as needed, his kingdom would gain steady magic, never forced to wait for their return.
A bold counter, but a wise one.
“You ask my people to tread unfamiliar shores,” Kallias continued. “I request the same. Send willing participants to help Radaan flourish.”
“And who,” Father asked, “will give them instruction?”
“Your daughter.” He didn’t flinch, tone flat as if stating a fact.
My eyes jumped to Mother. Her lips twitched before she dipped in a subtle nod. Joy stirred in my chest. These were moves Tallon never could’ve dreamed of making.
“The Dragon Riders will obey her as well,” Father added.
At that, he bristled. “I object. If she falls ill, or if we’re attacked, I must be able to issue orders.”
“No. Dragons answer only to Draconis.”
A slow breath swelled in his chest. He exhaled through his nose and gave a single, hesitant nod. “Agreed.”
