“Your mother fears you hate me.” The words scraped out, as if he loathed having to say it.
I stole a glance. His beard twitched. He still wouldn’t look at me.
“I don’t,” I whispered, curling my arms around my knees.
“You don’t act the same.” His voice dropped. “You came back… different.”
“You haven’t treated me like your daughter since I arrived.” I pressed my face into my knees.
And Iwasdifferent. I was cracked. Splintered down the center.
He inhaled, then tipped toward the sky as Argos soared overhead. “Do you remember when you were small and insisted on sleeping out here? You wanted to watch the sun sink into the world and rise again on the other side.”
“If I recall, you banned me from doing exactly that.”
I had been obsessed with the idea—catching the day as it emerged. I always fell asleep before it rose, only to wake with a dragon curled around me like a living shield.
He grunted. “Do you remember why?”
“Because I was a princess, and princesses don’t bed down beneath the stars.” I scoffed. “They sleep tucked in satin and feathers.”
He chuckled, head shaking. “As if.”
“Youyelledat me,” I shot back. “Carried me inside like a sack of grain, tossed me in bed, and screamed that princesses belonged indoors.”
“I don’tscream,” he said, arching a brow. I narrowed my eyes in return. “What you forget is the tumble off the Spire.”
I frowned, trying to recall. The landing had always felt like home, as if I were tucked away in the skies. Surely, I would’ve remembered if I fell off the edge.
“You were fevered. Sick. I shouldn’t have let you sleep out here, but your mother insisted the air would help. I was working late when Argos roared through the bond—you were falling.”
Cold spread through my limbs.
“He caught you.” His jaw tightened. “But it reminded me—if you fell, no matter how fast I was, I couldn’t save you, couldn’t protect you. I had to rely on the dragons. Argos placed your small, fragile, wingless body in my arms and–” He stopped, breath sharp. “I nearly lost you.”
He dragged a hand over his face, fingers raking through his beard. “When I put you to bed, I wasn’t angry at you. I was furious with myself. I let you stay out there, knowing the risk. If anything had happened… I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”
It all made sense now. His fury. Mother’s reassurances. As a girl, I forgot his sharpness quickly, slipping back into adoration—but I never slept on the landing again.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“No Draconis should ever fear the sky.” His stare pierced through me. Pride and worry tangled in his gaze. “Every time you venture here, Argos flies. Always ready. When you lean over the Nest, when your feet dangle off this cursed edge, his roar floods my mind. And I see it again—your fall—through his eyes.”
He released a long, slow breath. “No, Nienna. I was never angry with you.”
Not then. Not now. Tears welled, and I pressed my lips together, holding them at bay.
His gaze softened. A grimace tugged at his mouth as he caught the tear streaking down my cheek.
“Disappointed?” The word cracked in my throat.
My teeth clenched, bringing an ache to my jaw. I just wanted him back—my father, Dragon King of Draconia, fierce and overprotective, full of laughter and endless warnings. I needed his arms around me, to hear everything would be alright. That no matter what I’d done, he still loved me.
“We can’t change what happened or how it happened.” His voice dropped low. He brushed the tear away with a thumb rough from years of sword hilts and reigns. “But I will never forgive that man for how he broke you.”
“Father–”
“Don’t.” He tapped my lips with a finger, silencing the protest. “I still rage. My oath calls for vengeance.” His expression flared contempt. “But I will never stop loving you, Nienna. You are my daughter. My blood.”
