Leaving it behind fractured something deep in me. I had not crossed the sea as a king. No true leader would chase a woman beyond his borders, abandoning his throne.
No, I left Radaan as a man, and I would face Nereus as such. He was a father wronged. My mantle—symbol of duty—had no place in this. This would be a reckoning between men.
My jaw clenched as I squared my shoulders and turned toward the others in the hall. Three riders, though none held any rope or chain. Greaves stood beside them, his wrists bound behind his back.
Ronan’s nose wrinkled at the question in my expression. A snap of his fingers and a flicker of flame danced above them. “We won’t need to bind you.”
“No, because I go willingly,” I growled. The boy grated on me—smug, sharp-tongued. Why any dragon chose him was beyond me.
When I stepped out of my cell, a red-haired rider took point while Ronan gave a mocking bow, palm out.
“After you, Your Majesty.”
At least the whelp knew who outranked him. I gave a tight nod and followed the redhead. Greaves and the last rider fell in behind as we wove through the stone veins of the prison.
No other prisoners. Not a whisper, not a face. Either the dragons ruled through fear so complete their cells stayed empty, or Draconia’s perfection ran deeper than I dared believe.
They led us up a different path than we’d come. Staring up the narrow stairwell, I narrowed my eyes. The red-haired one clapped, and orbs of light spiraled up from below, whirling past my face. I grit my teeth and resisted the urge to flinch as they blazed upward.
The stairs came in ten-step bursts, doubling back again and again. My thighs burned. My breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. Was nothing on this gods-forsaken island flat?
Perhaps that explained Nienna’s legs—why they were so toned.
I bit down on the thought. Here I marched to die, and still, she haunted me.
Part of me hoped she wouldn’t come, that she’d spare herself the sight of my demise. But I knew better. She was forged of dragonfire. She would stand and watch, no matter how it broke her.
And I—I held no illusions. She wouldn’t root for me. Nor would she pray for her father. She loved him. Spoke of him with reverence.
No one would win today.
If I struck him, if I managed to maim or kill, she’d carry that pain like iron in her chest for the rest of her life. My only path forward meant blood. Her father’s. His dragon’s. Even then, his riders wouldn’t let me live—but this wasn’t about them. This was between me and Nereus.
At last, we stopped before a massive entrance. The redhead cast me a look—one final invitation to run. I almost laughed. With Nienna’s brother at my back, there was nowhere to go.
He dipped his head. “May you find peace after death.”
Ronan scoffed.
When they opened the door, sunlight slammed into my face. I winced, squinting into the blaze, but refused to shield my eyes.
Light poured through the massive archway. The landing loomed beyond. We entered the throne room again—this time, the chamber held fewer people. The empty circle carved into the center had grown.
The duel would happen here.
I rolled my shoulders as a wall of black scales blocked the sun. Eyes like molten bronze narrowed. Lips peeled back. Serrated teeth waited to shred.
A silence deeper than sleep crept in. Only the sharp crack of stone echoed as the dragon stepped forward, claws biting into the marble. People moved aside in practiced silence. It prowled to the throne’s rear, coiling around it, eyes fixed on mine. Its tail swung overhead. No one flinched.
It settled behind the throne, tail curling along the stairs. Its horns towered like jagged peaks. A blast of hot air steamed from its nostrils.
The breeze caught Nienna’s hair.
My gut tightened. She stood to her father’s left, veiled in black. A silver tiara glinted through her braid—the only shimmer on her. Her eyes looked hollow. Her jaw flexed, tight with restraint.
A future queen.
To the king’s right was Queen Nyxaria. Her loose curls, once gold, had grayed at the roots. Her frown etched deep into her cheeks. Chin lifted high, she glared as though I were mud tracked across her floors. Her white gown fluttered, untouched by her expression.
