If he had the power, he would’ve declared war the moment he saw me on that desk. But breaking a blood oath was only an act of war.
And only our father held the authority to declare it.
The dread in my gut hadn’t moved in hours, its burden familiar and heavy.
Father.
Fresh fury surged as I tugged at my torn dress. No breeches. My bare thighs scraped raw against the saddle’s leather. He dragged me from Reem without warning. No time to change, tobreathe.
Humiliation threatened to drown me as I remembered Kallias’ mouth on mine, the sound of tearing fabric when he finally tossed caution to the wind, surrendering to his hunger. Gods, the way he’d held me against the wall, letting me feel his need… how my touch slipped beneath his belt…
And then—shame. That filthy shame rippled through me as I struggled out of tangled trousers while my brother dragged me down the hall, my screams trailing behind us.
He would, no doubt, spit every graphic detail of how he found me once we landed on Draconis’ shores.
I had to find my mother first. Father couldn’t hear this from Ronan. It had to be her. She might—might—understand.
Hours wore on, leaving only my worries for company. Tallon planned this. Every piece. He knew I would find him with Fyrn, that I’d run to Kallias. He set me up, and I fell into his trap headfirst.
But how much did he know? How had he learned of my brother’s arrival while I was kept in the dark? I never received word that my letters survived the storms. Didhesend for Ronan?
Bile surged, burning my throat as I thought of Kallias facing Tallon’s poison. He was nothing like his son. The king faced his problems, didn’t stalk from the shadows. He fought.
Tallon just waited… lurking, picking bones clean. A vulture.
All this time, I toyed with Kallias, teased him, stole moments I never earned. I pushed him against his gods, against his people—and for what?
Guilt caved in. Tears stung, and I ducked my head against Ronan’s shoulder.
Kallias was a good king. Loyal. Unyielding. Honest.
He once promised he’d ruin me, but I ruined him, shattered his future. I dragged Radaan toward another war with Vellos… Because of me, there would be no dragons sent to aid them.
I couldn’t let my father retaliate.
Shame burned hot, swallowing me whole. Without help, Radaan might fall.
I sagged, all strength sapped from my bones, and I dozed, finding pockets of sleep between stabs of guilt. My ribs ached with emptiness.
I’d left my heart behind.
In Radaan.
Gyrak keened, wings twitching as he dipped, then surged upward on a fresh updraft.
“You’ll kill him!” I screamed, slamming my shoulder into Ronan’s chest. The massive black dragon had faltered twice since dawn. We still soared leagues above the ocean, no hint of land in sight.
Gyrak was young, but the flight across the sea dragged on for days without sleep or rest. The poor beast was spent by the time they arrived in Reem. He’d needed a chance to recover before returning to Draconia, but my brother hadn’t granted him that mercy.
“He can make it!”
Ronan braced himself as Gyrak huffed and lifted his neck, shielding us from the wind. He gripped my shoulder and shoved to his feet, then staggered forward, balancing across Gyrak’s midnight spine.
The sun beat down, warmer now, but the absence of Ronan’s body heat hit me at once. I wrapped my arms around myself, a shiver crawling down my back.
He scowled, stumbling toward the edge where the dragon’s scales sloped to the open sea.
“Not shy anymore, are you?!” he shouted, fiddling with his belt to relieve himself. “See one, then you’ve seen them–”
