I hadn’t even seen Mother to ask if the duel would come at dawn, or if we’d been granted a brief reprieve. I plunged into the texts, chasing threads that stretched back to the first bonds between dragons and Draconis. Perhaps that held the key.
“There’s nothing.” Freya exhaled, shoving her book toward the table’s center. “If there’s a way out of this mess, it’s not in here.”
I clenched my jaw, snatching the volume she abandoned in front of me. “It’s here.” The words scraped from my throat, meant more for me than her.
Kalepsi’s roar tore through the Cireendium, rattling the Spire; Argos answered, his screech splitting the air. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to ease the pressure pounding within.
“Sea beneath, what’s set them off?” Freya muttered.
“Argos is angry. Because of Father.”
“And Kalepsi?”
“I don’t know!” My words cracked. “I don’t know anything!” I shoved the book aside, heat burning behind my eyes.
Worthless. A princess. A Dragon’s Heart with no dragon to my name—a pawn in everyone’s game.
In Radaan, I was treasured. Even in Draconia, I had some standing, a measure of respect. But now, when the man I loved stood on the verge of death—I was nothing. This was my harsh reality. No magic. No power. A voice with no say.
I hid my face in my hands as Freya leaned back, studying me. Pain throbbed waves across my skull. My mouth felt like ash, my fingers trembled, and my limbs dragged heavy and slow. Every bit of my body demanded I rest, but Kallias came for me. He was here, and thatmeantsomething. A cursed flicker of hope. If he was here, there had to be a chance, some minute shred of a future together.
“I’ll get you tea,” she said, chair scraping as she stood.
She was just giving me space to grieve. I dragged her into this impossible chase—she was as spent as I was. The sun had punished us all day while we strung those ridiculous drapes, and now my desperation for answers demanded more.
I dropped my head to the table, retracing the same maddening path for the thousandth time.
The blood oath tethered Father and Kallias. Their lives locked to a signature, magic woven into ink and intent.
If there were a loophole, wouldn’t Father have told me? Could magic be misled by clever words? It wasn’t the runes themselves—it was belief, direction, purpose. When Father sent me to Radaan, he bound that purpose to a promise: I would be Tallon’s. When that promise unraveled, the magic must’ve interpreted it as betrayal.
Too much room for failure. Why were these oaths even still used?
“A princess never slouches.”
I jerked upright. Stars burst along my vision. When they cleared, Edith stood by the table—hair pinned in a perfect bun, not a strand astray.
Her mouth curled in a soft, sorrowful smile as she shook her head. “Before you ask, I don’t have the answer you seek.”
“He treated you well?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“As a king should.” Her gaze dropped. “He’s a kind soul. So are you both. But you’re caught in a terrible web.”
I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t let him duel Father.”
She sighed, then stepped behind me and swept my hair from my shoulders with careful fingers. “It will be tomorrow.”
The words hit like a physical blow. My lungs buckled. I folded in on myself, breath catching in a soundless scream. Somewhere above, a dragon’s roar rang out—raw, distant, full of grief that mirrored my own.
“The dragons feel it too,” Edith murmured, working her fingers through my wind-tangled knots. “If there were another way, your parents would have found it.”
“They hate him!” I choked, the stupid, worthless tears leaking out of my eyes once again.
“No,” she said, her tone gentle. “They loveyou. For that alone, they would choose differently if they could.”
Edith. My nursemaid. My handmaiden. Always steady, always near. She stepped back into her role as if we never parted, her voice full of sense and sorrow. She wove my hair into a braid with practiced hands while I tried to crush the last living piece of my heart.
Why didn’t I leave, run home, when I saw Tallon? Why did I go to that library, give in, tease, taunt, push?
