She embraced the woman, whispered assurances, then passed her to a guard. Her gaze found mine.
The beach pulsed with anguish and glory, fear braided through relief, while voices full of questions carried low on the breeze.
Would they return? Could Radaanian ships outmaneuver the blockade? Would they twist our strength against us again?
Mother’s fingers drifted down my arm, her whisper barely louder than the wind. “It’s time.”
She stepped away without hesitation, and Ronan moved with her, his face unreadable. Kallias lingered, eyes flicking between us—this wasn’t part of the plan.
But there was nothingleft to debate.
Our people wept with their families. They trembled in uncertainty. And Galdoni had already made his move.
He had reached for the Dragon’s Heart. He would reach again.
I lifted my chin and strode toward the Spire. “Light the pyres.”
The command rose from a place older than thought, deeper than flesh—an instinct, a promise written into my bones.
The sky split open.
Dragons burst through the mist, wings unfurling in violent elegance. Their roars shattered the silence as they dipped low, then climbed, circling once before banking toward the enemy ships. Bronze, onyx, copper, scarlet—every scale caught the dusk like a spark.
The hush that fell was immediate and total.
Kallias turned, gaze fixed on the horizon.
Then came the fire.
The roar of it cracked through the sky.
Cheers erupted on the shore. Cries of joy, revenge, justice. Their dragons had been used, their families held hostage. Those actions would never go unpunished. No one would hurt or threaten my own and get away with it.
This was my vow to them.
We were Draconis.
Our enemies were naught but ash.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kallias
The dragons torched everything. Fire poured over the raiders’ fleet, their hulls erupting in bursts of flame, splinters, and limbs scattered like kindling across the sea.
Nienna didn’t flinch. She turned her back on the blaze, spine straight, head high—leaving ruin in her wake.
When I arranged her marriage to Tallon, I expected the usual mold of royalty: sweet, sheltered, easily steered. But she wasn’t raised to bend. She carried the heat of dragonfire and the brilliance of sunlight. Fierce, brilliant, and on my side.
Radaan needed that fire. That edge. Not another polished diplomat, but a weapon sharpened to defend its borders. Someone who would burn down a threat without flinching.
I always thought I’d shoulder the burden alone. Make the brutal choices, carry the guilt. But today—she showed me she could carry it too. She would kill for those she loved. Radaan needed that steel, that ruthlessness.
Pride surged in my chest as we moved through the Spire. The halls swelled with voices, windows crowded with onlookers. Laughter tangled with disbelief, wonder thick in the air.
Without ships, what could Innaku do now? Rebuilding a fleet would take years—and Draconia would be ready for them.
Based on the fervor with which the dragons flew, it would be a wonder if Galdoni even survived.
