“He plans to starve you out, then,” Kallias said. “He’s severed your fishing routes, blocked your trade, grounded your dragons. You’re overpopulated and short on food. He’s not pressuring you—he’s letting time work for him. Galdoni believes he has the upper hand.”
“We’d fly before that,” Ronan snapped.
“Wemeethim before that,” Kallias corrected. “Is he aware of Nereus’ condition? He didn’t know he’d be sailing into that storm. He expected you to come to him. What’s the state of the red?”
“Elmo’s alive. The diversion was successful,” Ronan replied. “Two riders burned out their magic, shielding him from the blast.”
“He’s counting on you to fly. It’s a gamble. If he downs your dragons, what’s left? Where are your forces? Your battleships?” Kallias’ words cut through the room like drawn steel.
Haldor slammed a fist on the table. “We’ve never needed them! Our beasts have never failed us.”
“And now you suffer for that blind trust.Ifyou lose your dragons, you lose your island.”
Cold pooled in my gut as my gaze dropped to the map. Adoni’s death had been an accident, but perhaps it also cracked the door, igniting his father’s fury. The storm aided his cause. He saw his chance—and took it.
This wasn’t the end, either. Once he claimed Draconia, he’d set his sights on Ivetti and Kulletti. Or worse—join forces with the brutes and crush us between them.
“Meet him,” Kallias said, tapping the ship Galdoni had fortified. “If he’s reasonable, draw him to shore. If not, take your strongest Vessels and face him on the sea. Call his bluff.”
“The Innaki no longer feed our people,” I added. “He only holds leverage through the lives on those ships.”
“Can you feel them?” Kallias asked, scanning our faces. “The Vessels? The riders who lent them power—can they sense where they’re being kept?”
Haldor clenched his teeth. “Once the magic’s given, it’s gone. No tether remains.”
Kallias sighed. “Then we don’t know where your people are.”
Mother’s voice broke the silence. “He will not set foot on our shores. We’ll go to him and hope the man has an inkling of sense.”
If he was anything like Adoni, he didn’t.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nienna
Radaan’s mantle rested across my shoulders, its dragon-scale finish whispering with each step as I moved through the Spire’s halls. Beside me, Kallias wore his golden yoke—not just a symbol of weight and duty, but a declaration of wealth and abundance. Its gleam alone stripped the Innaki of the one thing they still lorded over us.
Radaan stood as the only alliance Draconia required.
We stepped from the Spire into open air. My gaze lifted, and a smirk tugged at my composure. Storm clouds ringed the Nest, thick mist veiling the sky above. The dragons hidden there remained unseen by any looking skyward.
Not all of them were grounded to the sand. Several took their rest in the heights.
Chin raised, shoulders square, I followed Mother and Ronan with Kallias at my side. Father was still asleep, unable to be roused. Greaves, ever stubborn, had argued to come despite his sour stomach. Kallias relented eventually, though not without a hushed standoff in our rooms that made me hide my grin.
Four riders flanked us: Haldor, Zane, Mikal, and Erwin. Aside from Father and Ronan, they were the strongest we had. Following close came four of our most powerful Vessels, saturated to the brink. Riders had poured into them until their bodies thrummed with magic.
We boarded a smaller craft under a white flag. The sea lay flat, unnervingly still. A mirror waiting to shatter. I’d never seen the ocean so calm—as if it held its breath before unleashing a storm doomed to swallow us whole.
As we neared the outer ring of Innaki raiders, fire licked at Ronan’s fingertips. Guilt seethed beneath his placid exterior, thick as smoke. He’d taken his first lives today—two of them being our own people. That grief had hardened into rage, and it now burned for the Innaki.
Their ships parted.
Relief brushed against my unease. One test cleared, so many more to go. Kallias’ arm flexed underneath my hand, steadying me. His presence lent me a confidence I never had before. I was not alone in this. He’d faced the Velli countless times in a similar manner—face to face, blade at his back, head high. He would guide me through this. Not by command—but at my side.
Another line of ships gave way. The hush deepened, broken only by the whisper of oars slicing water.
Clouds sank lower while fog licked the masts.
