“There has to be something—a way around this.” Either that, or I’d figure out how to smuggle him off the island. I wouldn’t let my father be his executioner.
Mother pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her hand settled on my arm. “The only thing you can give him now is comfort in his final days.”
I jerked away, vision blurred. I spun and tore down the corridor, cutting through hidden passageways wedged between walls and winding above the throne room. The narrow tunnel spat me onto a stone balcony veiled in shadow.
Below, Father sat on his throne above a crowd so dense it bulged against the doors. Every soul had come to witness history’s claws sink in.
The Dragon King would kill the King of Radaan.
Kallias knelt. Haldor stood beside him, hand twisted in Kallias’ hair, forcing his head up. Rage surged inside me, coiled and sharp. I lunged toward the railing, teeth biting into my tongue to stifle the cry in my throat.
Then he looked up. Sky-blue eyes locked on mine.
My heart cracked.
That gaze—steady, unflinching—I knew it. His face had thinned, cheekbones carved sharper. Scruff shadowed his jaw, grown thicker, as if to hide the hollows in his cheeks. Silver had threaded his temples.
He would never let me steal him away.
Haldor noticed me. He yanked, forcing Kallias’ attention forward, toward the throne.
My nails scraped the stone railing, the cool grit unwavering beneath my fingertips. A distant dragon’s roar echoed the scream in my chest. Kallias was a king; he deserved more than this spectacle.
The crowd stirred. Ronan pushed through the bodies, halting beside Mikal—who restrained a seething Greaves.
The man looked ready to vomit or kill. His face burned red, muscles stretched near breaking. His gaze locked on Kallias, twitching at every movement Haldor made, as though his body trembled on the verge of violence.
He was watching his friend’s death sentence.
“I’ve come to clear your daughter’s name.” Kallias’ voice rang out, thin but unshaken. The words echoed through the hall. Father let silence steep before answering.
Mine. Not his.
Father’s fingers tapped the throne’s armrest, silver rings clacking sharp in the hush. “Nienna was deceived. Manipulated by a man twice her age.”
A palm clamped over my mouth and yanked me into the shadows. I shrieked into the grip and drove an elbow into ribs.
“Don’t!” Freya hissed in my ear, pulling back her hand. “You’ll only make it worse!”
“It’s a lie!” I snarled, twisting to reach the rail again.
“And shouting it now fixes everything?” Her arms locked around me. “You wait. You watch. Think like the royal you are.”
I bared my teeth and shoved free, lunging toward the edge.
“My daughter needs no forgiveness,” Father said. “The monster who defiled her is the criminal—and will pay.”
“I offer my life—”
No.
Tsunami screamed past the landing, wings slicing the air, her cry shattering the sky.
“—I ask for Nienna’s hand in marriage.”
King Nereus exploded from the throne with a roar, a blur down the steps. He seized Kallias’ coat, dragging him upright. Greaves lunged, Ronan and Mikal barely holding him back.
“Youdare,” Father growled, almost lost beneath Argos’ thunderous shift. The dragon stretched its neck, sparks smoldering between its fangs. “Dareask for my daughter—after swearing her to your son?”
