Blue sparks burst across his mouth, silencing him. His chair scraped back as magic shoved it from the table.
“Another word, and you’re grounded a week.” Father’s voice cracked like thunder. He pointed, the dismissal plain.
Ronan threw up his hands, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“He’ll be worse than you,” Mother muttered, face buried in her palms.
Father didn’t speak. His silence burned hotter than words. He stared at me still—white brows drawn in what I hoped was contemplation, not accusation.
“The Innaku wait for our response,” she continued, trying to draw his focus away.
He pushed to his feet, shaking his head. “Nienna, why is it always you?”
Shame sealed my throat. This wasn’t my fault. Not this time. The island prince saw weakness—thought I’d grovel for a crown without seeing that I already gave everything that mattered. My heart. My soul. Both belonged to someone else.
I would never marry. Never bear children.
Besides, after Radaan and now Adoni, men would keep their distance. I’d become a cautionary tale—untrustworthy, cursed, or worse, a death sentence wrapped in a pretty dress.
I couldn’t possibly sink any lower.
Sunset found me on the landing, legs dangling into the wind. The sky blazed—a riot of pinks, purples, and bruised blue streaks, screaming for attention. Dragons echoed its cry, their roars tearing through the painted heavens as they darted between clouds like living fire.
But my gaze stayed fixed on the endless northern sea. My mind clung to a continent hidden by distance, tethered by something I couldn’t name. An ache pulled in my chest—as if unseen fingers clawed outward, reaching for the missing half of my soul.
Kallias.
I could dance through courtly games, charm diplomats, and endure the whispers that skittered down the Spire’s halls. But the emptiness in my chest? It gnawed at me. Unraveled me with a silent, ceaseless hunger.
Every sun-thirsty plant straining toward a window. Every mention of trade routes or harvests. Even when someone so much as uttered the wordgoat, the void inside me tore wider.
How was he surviving? Did he feel this too? He had years on me. Did time dull the pain? Did duty weigh less on stronger shoulders?
A tear broke loose and traced a hot path down my cheek. I shut my eyes, throat clenching as I pictured his silhouette—broad, unyielding. No, it wouldn’t be easier for him. But he’d shoulder the burden, as always. He would never let Radaan down. Too loyal. Too strong.
He was probably arranging another marriage for his wretched son.
A sob clawed free as Tallon’s face collided with Fyrn’s in my mind. My fist cracked against the stone beneath me. The sea looked serene—mocking me with its calm.
My heart kicked against the injustice. Fyrn didn’t suit him. She had nothing to offer and knew it. How had I missed the way she looked at him? I assumed she tolerated him, grew up with him. I never guessed she wanted him.
She got her heart’s desire—regardless of the cost. But Kallias and I? We were cursed from the beginning.
It. Wasn’t. Fair.
I hugged myself. Wind curled around my dress, tugging it like a child seeking attention. Kallias would arch a brow if he saw me perched on the edge—just as he did in Phares.
Back then, he flinched when I leaned over balconies. He hated heights. Hid it well, but not from me. I remembered the strain in his jaw as we climbed Sol’s mountain path.
Footsteps scuffed behind me, and I straightened fast, wiping the wet from my cheeks. I met my father’s frown as he stared over Draconia. Wind toyed with his white hair, but didn’t ease the tension in his brow.
I sniffed, laced my hands in my lap, and blinked the rest of the tears away. I buried the broken part deep where he wouldn’t see.
With a sigh that carried too much weight, Father sank beside me. His boots dangled off the edge, silver buckles catching the sun’s last breath. He crossed his arms, leather creaking faintly with the motion.
Neither of us spoke as the light bled from the sky.
I had never felt so alone. A failure to my people. A shame to my parents. Too soft. Too easy to use. And the man I loved bore the blame for what I let happen.
