“I’ll take dinner in my room,” I said, nudging the chair back in place.
“And let Chief Jehoikim squirm unopposed?” She pressed her finger to the mage light. It flared, pulsed, then burned brighter, as if newly fed.
Jealousy prickled through me.
“You should be there. A symbol of strength.” She straightened. “You delivered a blow last night. Now follow through. Sit tall. Don’t cower. You refused him—make sure he doesn’t mistake it for doubt.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Freya’s raised brow and crooked smile met my gaze.
A princess wouldn’t retreat.
“Freya, I’ve a dinner to prepare for.”
Chapter Five
Iarrived at dinner on time, before the first dish was served. I ignored Ronan’s stare, but sought a single glance from my father. None came, still avoiding me.
Jehoikim locked eyes with me as he approached the dais. I met his attention with a relaxed face, though my gaze dared him to ask for my hand again.
Father clenched his spoon, glaring at the island chieftain across the table. The second night of soup marked either the depth of our desperation or a continued threat, with such utensils at my father’s grasp.
I dropped a seaweed crisp into the broth, watching it sink and swirl. The space buzzed around me. Lanterns and mage lights bathed the walls in warm gold. Their glow skimmed the polished black stone, throwing reflections that made the space feel larger than it was. Long tables filled the chamber, brimming with guests—less so with food. Smaller than Radaan’s grand dining hall, as was everything here.
We were only a small isle nation. I once believed this land to be vast. Now it felt like a droplet beside Radaan’s ocean.
My thoughts broke—fractured with the ache of wondering what he was eating.
I forced it away.
A roar shook the Spire. An indignant shriek followed. Father’s head snapped up, his brow fixed in that permanent scowl. Conversations quieted but didn’t fall silent. Dragons argued often.
“Tsunami,” he muttered, shaking his head and returning to his soup.
“What now?” Mother asked.
“Taunting Argos. Flirting for a dance, then darting off. If she keeps it up, he’ll ban her from the island.”
“She wouldn’t stay away,” Ronan said, pushing his empty bowl aside. He always ate like someone might steal the food. “Something’s keeping her here.”
“Regardless, Argos is the strongest bull. He alone decides which beasts remain and which leave.”
Mother set her spoon down. “Let him. She has sunk too many ships.”
Shock surged through me. Since when did we decide which dragons belonged?
“She refused the tithe,” she added.
A cackling chirp rang through the Cireendium—Tsunami’s laugh.
“She’s only playing,” I said. Tsunami was large, fast, and clueless. Like a pup too big for her paws. A rider would temper that immaturity, but for now, the dragons corrected her as best they could.
Father’s eyes speared to mine, and I wilted beneath the intensity. “Play is for hatchlings and children,” he said. “She’s old enough to know her place.”
Were we still talking about Tsunami?
Mother rested her hand on his arm. “Nereus, have we received word from the Ivetti concerning the Awakening?”
“They will send what we asked.”
