And it wasn’t as if I could hold the Craggs against Vellos any better than Darius and his Threshers.
Nienna teased me with her scent—that scorching oil she used drove me mad. I responded instinctively, as if her perfume now belonged to me. The blend of waterlilies and sea air embraced my senses, and my body reacted, as if anticipating what came next.
But then she left, claiming the Nest required her.
I let her go, knowing I’d be of no help there. The dragons tolerated me for her sake, and while I trusted they wouldn’t scorch me alive, there was still an inkling of doubt.
A knock, followed by “My king,” marked Fallione’s arrival.
I really needed to ask Nereus for my own study—too many people in my sleeping chambers made my skin crawl.
“News?” I asked, pivoting in my chair.
“The messenger ships are resettling into their posts,” he said, flipping through fresh documents. “A few more days and they’ll be ready to handle the doves. Also, a sailor caused a scene in K’lan and authorities are demanding gold for compensation.”
“What kind of scene?” I frowned. I trusted Captain Jensen’s crew, but I should’ve given them something to do while we lingered. Men grew feral when idle.
“It appears he’s destroyed the interior of a tavern during a brawl.”
“Destroyed?” I scoffed. “The goods or the structure itself?”
“Both—You remember Ludwig, Your Majesty?” Fallione raised his brows as if the sailor should’ve made a lasting impression.
“I was barely functioning on the voyage here,” I muttered. Locked in the captain’s quarters, trapped with a seasick Greaves and my spiraling thoughts.
“Ah, well… K’lan claims damages exceed three hundred twenty gold.”
I stilled. That was more than some ships. “Was he possessed? A dragon in human form? Or just feeling ambitious?”
“It took five Draconis to remove him from the building. A rider had to restrain him. He’s confined to a cell.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. The struggles of a king bringing his men to a foreign nation without proper preparation or jurisdiction was a discussion needed to be handled with Nereus. No sailor could pay that kind of restitution, but I wasn’t about to let him off either. If he destroyed something, he would have to rebuild it.
“Where is he being held?”
“Second prison of K’lan. He’s stable and awaiting your command.”
Of course he was. The island teemed with dragons. No matter how brawny, if he crossed a rider again, he’d be bones in the sand.
“What started the fight?”
“A woman. What else?”
The fresh reports listed the charges. Apparently Ludwig had assaulted a man over the affections of his wife. Quite a damning accusation. I’d need to speak with him to address it.
Fallione left, but a king’s work never ended. Words bled across the page as my skull throbbed. Just as the headache bloomed, Nienna returned.
I glanced at the window, frowning at the faded daylight. Had I really wasted an entire day at this desk? That never happened in Radaan.
“You’re right where I left you,” she said with a laugh, vanishing into the dressing room, Freya close on her heels.
“I fear kingship isn’t all dragonfire and wedding fair queens,” I groaned, rising to stretch and follow. My spine cracked with the movement.
“If only,” she called. “I’ve been swimming through lists of Vessels.”
I caught my reflection in the dressing room mirror—wrinkled tunic, loose collar, dull eyes. “You’ll be choosing who comes to Radaan?”
“Mother has final say,” she said, while Freya worked a deep blue gown around her frame.
