“Have you heard from the Innaki?” I asked.
Her smile faded into a crease of worry before she shook her head. “Not yet. Their ships should be making harbor soon. I’ve advised that we wait—letGaldoni move first. We have enough tasks to occupy us. No use fretting over potential strife before your wedding.”
“The Innaki won’t truly declare war.”
“They might’ve pressed the advantage, but once you’re married to Kallias, they lose leverage. Still, they sailed before the Radaanian vessel made port. They don’t know anything’s changed. Dragons help them—if they posture now, your father won’t tolerate it.”
She patted my shoulder, her fingers curling around the crook of my elbow. “Come, my princess. It’s time to fulfill your destiny.”
The winding route through the Cireendium brimmed with life. Excited voices bounced off the cavern walls, rising into the Spire’s height. Crowds parted with murmured greetings, leaving a clear path to the first level—letting their rulers pass.
We made our way toward the auditorium stage. Normally used for island meetings, today it hosted something far more historic. With Tsunami and her obvious fixation on Kallias, Father had refused to hold the ceremony outside.
Ronan appeared from the crowd, offering me his arm. “Last chance to run, Sister,” he muttered.
I stepped on his toe.
He snorted, shoulders bouncing with silent laughter. Despite his troublemaking, he was still my brother. His judgment with Tallon had faltered, and he’d swung from detesting Kallias to tormenting him. And yet, I smiled—comforted by the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes as we reached the top.
Kallias wore his signature forest-green overcoat, the gilded embroidery curling like vines. Under it, though, a blue vest hugged his chest. The twin gold designs matched those on the outer layer—a visible gesture, a pledge. A piece of Draconia near his heart.
His gaze swept down my dress, a deep emerald to match him. Beneath the folds, dark trousers peeked from slits in the skirt—stormy-blue patterns trailing into my boots. A statement. I belonged to Radaan now, but my roots still wrapped around the cliffs of my homeland.
At the table, Father extended his arm, and I stepped close, letting him guide me between himself and Kallias.
“People of Draconia!” Father’s voice boomed, echoing into the heights above. “Today marks a turning point—etched forever in our memory. A celebration not only of peace, but progress. We have secured a treaty with Radaan.”
Cheers burst through the crowd. Fists punched the air, voices roaring with approval.
“I have negotiated the best for our island,” he continued, “and through King Kallias and Princess Nienna’s union, we gain grain, resources, and an alliance meant to last generations!”
Some faces in the crowd pulled tight with skepticism, and discontent flickered in their narrowed eyes as they glanced toward Kallias. A few shook their heads, but their resistance crumbled beneath the magnitude of the crowd’s celebration.
Father lowered his arm and leaned over the sprawling parchment. The parchment spilled over the sides of the table like a waterfall. He dipped the quill, let the excess drip off, and signed his name with broad, black strokes. No blood this time. Just ink.
He signed again beneath mine, scrawling‘The Dragon’s Heart’beside it. Then he handed the quill to Kallias, who accepted it with a slight bow.
His shoulder brushed my side as he leaned into the table, bracing himself as he wrote in the slot once meant for his son. The chains of his mantle swung, catching glints of torchlight above the page. All the struggle, the distance, the fire—it ended in a single name. A simple signature.
He placed the quill aside and straightened. Turning to Father, they saluted—fists to chest—and the room erupted once more.
Kallias turned to me. His smile was rare, unguarded. The corners of his eyes crinkled with quiet joy, though his jaw clenched to cage the emotion.
I dipped low into a curtsy, then slid my hand into the crook of his arm. We descended together, Greaves at our backs.
Sunlight poured through the open doors, striking the stone walls in gold and copper hues. The light caught the rows of faces, their expressions glowing with hope, curiosity, or suspicion.
Before we reached the main floor, the sun vanished behind a sudden shadow. Tsunami trilled, her slit pupils narrowed directly at Kallias.
We didn’t pause. We walked beneath her gaze, past the doors, as some of the crowd bent low in reverence.
The dragon snorted, wings rustling like sails in a gale. Then, with a single beat, she launched into the sky.
“She’s headed for the landing,” I guessed as we climbed the Cireendium’s winding slope.
“Is she part of the celebration?” he asked.
“Not on purpose.” I kept my smile fixed. “You’ve been holed up in the Spire for days. The poor beast has been beside herself, trying to get a glimpse of you. Riders have been grumbling about it nonstop.”
