“A bit of mild discomfort on your end,” he said, leaning closer, tone needling. “Unless I find a lie.”
“I ask that the prince leave.”
Ronan balked. “Why?”
“Done,” Nereus cut in.
“Father!” Ronan rose, face twisted in protest. “What if he glows like a cursed starfish again and attacks you?”
“I’ll give you three breaths before I acknowledge your blatant insult to my ability to defend myself,” the king growled.
Ronan scoffed and shoved his chair back, stalking out. “I’ll be in the hall.”
The door slammed, and I exhaled, letting my weight sag against my seat. “It’s no simple thing, allowing someone to crawl through your thoughts.”
“And yet I’m meant to trust my daughter with a man old enough to be her father, one found between her legs, insisting he’s honorable.”
Fair.
“Can I control what you see?” I asked, fighting my cringe.
“You cannot.”
“There are things I wish to remain private.”
He deadpanned. “I imagine so.”
My glare sharpened. “If it concerns Eldeiade, I expect her privacy to be respected.”
His brow creased. “Your former wife? Why hide her from me?”
“That’s my line.” My jaw flexed. No man should have to bear that, let alone watch another witness that shame. Only Greaves knew the extent of what happened behind closed doors—and it would stay that way.
“I can’t promise I won’t stumble upon it,” he said with a shrug, “but I won’t go digging. If I sense you abused her though, I’ll see you dragged back to Radaan on that pathetic scrap you call a ship.”
A slow breath steadied me. For Nienna, I’d endure it. Sun above, I hoped she’d been honest with her mother about how far things had gone.
Nereus rose. I followed. He stepped closer, reached toward my face. I recoiled, neck cracking as I flinched.
“You’ll see what I see,” he warned, settling his rough palm on my shoulder instead. “Brace yourself.”
My grip barely found the table’s edge before his thumb brushed my skin—and the ground vanished beneath me.
I sat in the study with Bac’phares while he fumed over the raise in his taxes.
The vision shifted.
Nienna leaned into me, fingers grazing my jaw. I flinched from her pull. “Gods, Nienna, I’m trying to do the right thing.” Her touch reminded me she lived. She came to me—needed me. I would burn Reem to the ground if it meant keeping her safe.
The scene fractured.
We spun in a ballroom haze, her breath brushing my ear. My thigh pressed between hers. Her face flushed. I wanted to tear the fabric from her skin and take her right there, with the crowd watching. She matched my rhythm with willing submission, hips grazing mine—gods, what would she be like in bed–
My stomach dropped as the world spun again.
Nienna, Princess of Draconia, arrived, and Tallon was nowhere to be seen. Of course. That scorching son was never where I needed him. She climbed the dais with unsteady steps. Pale. Damp with sweat. Ill?
She bent and pressed her lips to my brow. Fire erupted from her, curling around us in blazing ribbons. This was for Tallon. She belonged to him. And he cast her off as if she were a broodmare he hadn’t chosen.
