“I first touched your daughter weeks after her arrival,” I started.
His lip curled in a furious sneer.
“It wasn’t sudden. When she landed on my shores, I had no interest in her outside the alliance with my son. I fought the connection between us—she did not.”
I let that hang, then pressed forward.
“She cared for my people. For Radaan. There’s a strength in her—a sense of duty—that few carry. She’s more than a princess. She’s a queen in her own right, and revealed as much in my court. Nienna faced crowds, challenged nobles, won hearts. Don’t reduce her to a simple beauty I wanted for myself.
“I have remained celibate since Tallon’s conception. There’s no shortage of women that I could have bedded. As a king yourself, you know this. And yet, I touched no one.”
“But you had to havemydaughter,” he snarled.
I eased back, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’ve made mistakes. But I never crossed a line she didn’t invite. I never forced her. Never coerced her.”
“She wouldn’t know. You’re twice her age. You’ve had years to learn how to prey on younger women. How am I to believe anything you say?”
“Greaves is my guard. He’s slept in my chambers, shadowed me since boyhood. Ask him.”
“And where was he when you touched my daughter?”
Telling me I was too old for her.
I exhaled, cornered. “I sent him off. Or slipped away.”
Nereus tipped his head with a smug leer. A predator with fresh blood on the wind.
“You’ve got all this magic,” I said, jaw tight, “yet can’t tell truth from lies? You’re determined to cast me as an animal—Elohios knows I’ve felt like one—but I’mstanding here trying to make it right. And you’re determined to drag me down.”
Ronan kicked his chair to the floor and slammed his palm against the table. “A Vessel!”
“Radaanians are not Vessels,” the king barked.
I turned, squinting at the prince. “Vessel?”
“Aye. A Vessel for magic. Riders can pour power into them—and when we do, we glimpse their minds.”
The nape of my neck prickled. I recoiled.
“There’s absolute trust between rider and Vessel,” Nereus said, voice low as he swirled his drink. “We guard their secrets. They respect our gift. We never bond with one who might abuse it. That’s why Dragon Riders reserve the right to sift through memory.”
My stomach knotted. The thought of someone combing through my thoughts—rifling through what I’d buried beneath decades of discipline—turned my insides to ice.
“It could work,” Ronan said, turning toward his father. “He has magic of some kind—we all saw him glowing like a storming firefly.”
“That glow is Elohios’ blessing,” I explained. “Though his gift is fractured here.” My eyes swept the stone walls, as if they might explain it. Normally, the light pooled across my skin—whole, unbroken. Today, it flickered and dulled. Dampened.
“We don’t believe in gods,” Ronan tossed out carelessly. “Father, let me try.”
“I wouldn’t have you in my head if it spared me from hurling myself off the landing, boy,” I hissed.
Nereus scoffed—the closest thing to a smile I’d seen on him since arriving. He dipped his chin, studying me. “And if I asked? Would you allow a father to see whether you speak the truth about his daughter?”
Gods. The library. That hall after the assassination attempt. The manor in the mountains. Would he feel how my pulse jumped near her? Know what lust stirred in my veins? Would it damn me further or clear my name?
Other memories roused from their coffins—dark ones I kept sealed tight.
“What are the risks?” My voice dipped low as caution crept in. No part of me had prepared for this—for Nereus, Dragon King of Draconia, sifting through my mind.
