“And let good food go cold?” He spat. “No.”
Picking my utensil back up, I caught Nienna’s smirk. She bit her lip, ducking her head to hide it.
The meal was enough to fill the ache in my stomach. The soup tasted like sea brine and old nets. A slice of bread sat beside it—dry, nothing extra. I wondered if the fare was a matter of circumstance or custom. Were they scraping stores clean, or offering only what sufficed?
Nienna had told me her people needed food, but I hadn’t realized how deeply. If this was their table, what fed the slums? Malnutrition bred disease. In Radaan, a strong army ate well and moved fast.
We ate in silence. Ronan finished first, chair creaking as he leaned it back on two legs. The room felt tight, homely. It wasn’t built for state dinners—more a place for family. Paintings lined the walls: dragons curling above Draconis’ shoulders, riders sweeping across skies. A single window framed the night.
Above us, a chandelier flickered—small lights bobbing over carved runes.
I itched to ask Nienna what powered them, but stayed silent.
Nereus rose, crossed the room, and opened a cabinet. He poured amber liquid into a misshapen glass. Bottles clinked. No words.
He hesitated. Then prepared a second.
He’d offer it to me. My pulse jumped. Which would be worse—talking to him while alcohol burned my wits, or refusing it and angering him?
He returned, slid it across the table. I caught it, cool rim slick from sloshed liquid. He sighed and sat.
“I want the truth,” he said, voice low and hard. “From you. Nienna stays silent.”
Her lips pressed tight and her glare burned holes in the table’s surface, but she remained quiet.
“From her arrival?” My chest already ached.
“If that’s the beginning.”
I refused to rise to the bait. Instead, I settled back. “When Nienna arrived at Reem, Tallon wasn’t there.”
“Where was he?”
He wasted no time. “Out on a hunting trip I didn’t know about. I assume Ronan told you Nienna delivered her seal to me?”
“And it saved your life,” Nyxaria said, shaking her head. “Only the Dragon’s Heart can bestow the Dragon’s Kiss. We never guessed it would shield against dragonfire. There’s no record of such a thing.”
Elohios be blessed. He’d watched over me since the beginning. I made a note to thank him later.
“Please explain what happened between you two after Ronan left,” Nereus said, raising his glass for a sip.
This part twisted deeper than the rest. Speaking my failures as a father was one thing—admitting I fell for my son’s bride… Well, it painted me as a monster.
“Nienna was promised to Tallon. I honored that. A ball was held to celebrate their engagement. But over time, the prince proved… unfit to care for her as she traversed our country. I stepped in, trying to ease the burden of her transition.”
His fingers locked around his cup. A pulse flared in his temple. Fury lit his gaze. I knew what he wanted, but wasn’t ready to hand it over. Thewhen. When desire turned to touch. When restraint burned away and lust fluttered to flame.
“If Nienna is bound to silence, perhaps the women should step out.” I held his stare. If he needed the whole truth, I’d give it. Let him swing the full weight of his fury at me. He wouldn’t break until she left the room.
“And if I want her to verify your story?”
“Have your wife interrogate her—if she hasn’t already—and compare notes later.”
He drained his glass and stood. Nyxaria narrowed her glare at his back, then leaned to whisper something in Nienna’s ear.
Those sea-deep eyes darted from mine to her father. I raised a brow. I’d faced down dragonfire for her, and she doubted I could handle this?
She pressed her lips tight, gave a sharp shake of her head, then followed her mother through the door. Nereus returned from refilling his drink, and I leaned in, arms braced on the table’s edge.
