I stood, one hand braced on the chair as I lifted my chin. “I gave my oath.”
A lie.
To my father.
Hidden under the perfect mask of a princess raised at court.
He dipped his head, gaze sharp beneath his thick brows.
I left no room for dispute, barreling on. “A Draconis Blood Oath can only be purged in dragonfire.” I struggled to keep my voice even and clear. “Are you prepared to slander the Draconis name—and burn your daughter alive?”
He shrugged off Mother’s hand, prowling closer. I held my ground as he gripped my chin, eyes boring into mine. My skin prickled, palms growing slick.
Could he see the lie?
Did he know?
Had I destroyed the final remnants of my father’s trust?
“I have not tarnished our name.” Resignation colored his tone, and I smothered my hope. “Go to bed, Nienna.”
His hand dropped, and I staggered as if it was the only thing holding me upright.
“Sea beneath,” he muttered.
Before I could blink, my feet left the floor, and he hauled me into the warmth of his chest. Medals dug into my cheek, his leathers creaking with every stride. I didn’t protest. Couldn’t. I just let myself be held.
He said nothing as he kicked the door open and carried me past the riders in the hall.
I should’ve objected. A princess would have.
But I was too tired, too hollow, my soul too broken.
He made no promises as we strode beyond Kalepsi’s wailing, or as he laid me in bed and brushed hair from my face. No comments, no accusations. My chestthrobbed, tight with a plea I couldn’t voice—that he’d swear to leave Radaan alone.
But I remained silent.
And he left without a word.
Chapter Three
Mother’s hand stayed firm on my elbow as we climbed the long winding staircase to the Nest. A full night’s sleep, hot food, and fresh water had begun to rebuild my strength. But my thighs and calves, softened by Radaan’s flat plains, protested the endless ascent.
A sharp pang cut through me. I buried it fast, embracing the burn. I couldn’t afford to think of Radaan.
Oils coated my cheeks and split lip, shielding the raw skin. My hands lay swaddled in linen, hiding the gashes from clinging to Gyrak’s scales. Nothing could touch the bruises under my eyes—the price of slamming my head against his neck.
I looked wrecked.
A battered shell for a soul in shreds.
Breath rasped in my throat, and I slowed, squinting toward the black passage above. Mother shifted the lantern, golden light flashing across the cold stone walls.
So different from Radaan, where life couldn’t be contained.
A throaty croon rolled down the stairwell, followed by heavy sniffing. A faint smile tugged on my scabbed lip, and I forced my legs onward.
At last, we reached a landing. Mother turned the lantern low and hooked it on the wall.
