“It’s never nothing with you.” She snorted, linking arms with mine as we climbed the stairs.
We rushed to clean up. She slipped into the servant halls, and I made for the dining room. Zane stood guard, flipping his dagger with lazy precision, catching it midair with a wicked grin.
“No comment, Princess?” he asked as I approached.
“You meet expectations,” I said. “A rider should know which end of a blade to hold.”
He recoiled with mock horror. “You wound me.”
“Better my words than your knife.” I laughed and strode past him. The scent of fish broth and kelp wrapped around me, fragrant and briny, richer than what we served on the beach.
Scarcity didn’t discriminate.
A dull ache pulsed through my heart again. The Innaki abandoning our shores wasn’t just a signal—it was a warning. But until word came, we could only wait.
Adoni was Galdoni’s only heir, but the king could still produce another. I mourned the boy I once called friend, but the grief had torn itself to pieces. I didn’t know how to feel anymore.
He thought I waseasy.
Retaliation hadn’t crossed his mind. He thought I would fold. Surrender.
My stomach soured.
I approached my father’s table with a careful grin. He greeted me with a clenched jaw and a terse nod.
But he saw me. That counted.
These were hard times for Draconia. He hadn’t smiled in public for weeks. I missed the days when we’d fly with Argos, his arms around me, the wind a song and the sky a promise.
Now everyone had a scheme.
“You’re late,” Mother whispered, dipping her bread into her soup.
A servant placed a portion in front of me. Bits of fish bobbed in the broth.
“I was feeding our people.”
Across the table, Ronan cleared his throat and raised his brows at his empty bowl, refusing to meet my eyes.
Mother caught it. Her gaze snapped to him, daring him to look up.
“Tomorrow you’ll be better used in K’seer,” she said. “The stage needs your touch.”
“Something you can’t do?” I kept my voice low. Nobles didn’t need to hear bickering between a queen and her daughter.
“I could spend my days in beach kitchens.” Her tone lowered. “However, there are duties that demand more of me.”
I pressed my lips together. Her words stung, despite their gentle delivery. I’d spent weeks hunting for impossible answers in the library and sweating in thekitchens, trying to atone for something no one asked me to fix. Perhaps it was selfish either way. Both were for my own benefit.
This mess wasmine. Our people needed something to lift them. The Awakening would remind them of what we still had—an abundance of fish, music, community.
Dragonlings.
We would not perish or starve.
The festival, a symbol of hope, meant rebirth after the storms that assailed our islands.
Our people needed that reminder.
