Chapter Fourteen
Nienna
Above me, Argos snapped his jaws, hissing his frustration—but evenheflinched from the sudden flare.
Kallias’ skin burst with the light of the sun before melding to cracks along his hands and neck. His movements sped to match my father’s, the force of his blows sending Father staggering back a step.
Was this Elohios’ gift? The light Gayle had spoken of? It streaked beneath Kallias’ clothes like fire behind a veil. It didn’t touch his face, only burned low, hidden, but potent. Whatever its source, it let him match my father blow for blow.
Father’s fury deepened, and Argos growled, matching his chaos. They wanted this fight to have a quick end.
My pulse rattled. My palms burned slick. I didn’t know how to feel—how could I? No matter the outcome, I’d lose a piece of my heart.
Father ducked under a swipe, lunged. Feet moving faster than my eyes could track, Kallias dodged the blow, muscles bunching under his tunic as he parried. His blade cut upward toward Father’s skull.
A dry sob wracked my body, emotion jerking through my chest. I would lose either way. Even if Kallias had the power of a god trickling through his veins, Father harnessed the magic of the eons through Argos.
And so the torture dragged on.
Steel shrieked with each clash. Kings tore at each other for my sake. I was their destruction. Never had I believed I would be a single nation’s doom, let alone two.
I was cursed.
Kalepsi’s roar rattled the Spire, sending bits of stone skittering across the floor. The dragons grew restless—their king had met his match. At my back, Argos snarled, tension thrumming through him as the fight dragged on.
Pebbles and dust rained down, the throne room trembling beneath their fury.
Father slashed, feinted, swept low. His foot hooked Kallias’ knee. Kallias hit stone, rolled, pushed upright in one fluid burst. He met the next blow with a grunt and steel.
Momentum pushed Father forward, and Kallias rammed his shoulder into his stomach. They broke apart, circled again. Vultures over a carcass.
That’s all I was. A corpse. No heart left.
Their breaths matched, sharp and ragged. Kallias’ disheveled hair clung damp to his brow. A sheen coated Father’s skin.
My knees threatened to give out, and my fingers closed around the throne’s cool stone for support. I had to stop this. I couldn’t stand here and watch. There had to be something—anything.
If I attempted to interrupt, Ronan and Mother would drag me out, remove me from the throne room.
My gaze slipped to my brother as the men clashed in a tangle of blades and limbs. He held Greaves back, Mikal tight beside him. My breath snagged at the sight of Kallias’ friend. Veins bulged in his neck, swollen from strain. His fists trembled, teeth bared, ready to charge.
Help me.
My nails scraped into marble like dragon claws, agony crashing over me in waves, and I shuddered.
Please, help me.
Kalepsi slammed into the landing.
Gasps cut the air, and the crowd parted like frost from flame. True fear washed me in terror as she clawed into stone, sparks dancing past violet scales.
Father shifted, attention split between her and the man he meant to kill.
Argos reared, stretching his neck over us and bellowed, a territorial warning that cracked the sky.
Kalepsi crept forward. Her massive form blocked all sunlight, casting the space in shadow.
Help me!I prayed to whomever might hear me. Would Radaan’s goddess hear me again? Kalepsi avoided people—she was more prone to eat them than tolerate anyone’s presence—and she never left the Nest this close to the Awakening.
