He stalked closer, each step heavy with intention. Chin high. Shoulders squared. Storm-gray gaze pinned to mine. A man I’d clashed blades with. My equal—maybe my better—but not someone I ever wanted to meet on a true battlefield.
“Walk with me,” he said, his tone clipped. Behind us, Argos hurled himself back over the ledge and vanished into the sky.
I pivoted and kept pace. Another dragon landed, and I caught sight of Ronan tugging down his goggles, heading toward the smaller black.
“The Kulletti demand a meeting.” Nereus’ voice ground like stone as we turned into a side corridor. “The Awakening is two days away. You know it?”
I hated this ignorance. “A festival.”
“Thefestival,” he snapped, not breaking stride. “It begins with a night of revelry, ends with the dragonlings cracking shell. Marks a new year. It matters. I’ve no time to juggle marriage negotiations on top of that.”
He wanted to delay. I braced myself. “My nation is without a ruler. It is of the utmost importance that I return soon.”
“You wouldn’t be returning at all if Nienna hadn’t kissed you.”
His words hit sharp, but I masked the wince.
He pushed through the doors of the smaller dining hall, the same room we’d spoken in before. His gaze flicked to Greaves, then he dropped into a chair. He gestured for me to sit beside him. A sour, briny scent stung my nose—pickled fish.
I joined him as he bit into toast layered with diced fish and some sort of paste. Greaves hovered close, watching, waiting. Wondering if I’d have him test it first.
But I passed their games. Draconia needed me alive. Poison wasn’t on the menu, not when I was more valuable as their ally.
I bit through the paper thin bread. Salt-heavy with a slow, rising burn. I swallowed it down and leaned back.
Nereus nodded, satisfied. “Negotiations for Nienna’s hand begin after the hatching. But I have two conditions.” He lifted a finger. “First: a Draconis wedding.”
“Here?” I asked. If the palace served as host, I could oblige. Ideally, Radaan would witness the marriage—but I wouldn’t deny Nereus the assurance of a sealed union.
“And by our traditions.”
“I’ll need a detailed list. My advisor will see to it.”
“Done.” He took a deep breath, then raised a second finger. “And I want your word. Swear you’ll not touch her until you’re married.”
Years of court trained me to stillness. But the words struck hard. Had someone seen? Heard?
“I know Nienna,” he said, grinding his teeth. “I saw what happened.”
He stared at the table as if he didn’t want to be reminded of what he glimpsed in my memories.
If he only knew what a breach of privacy that had been for me. I wouldn’t have done it if there was any other way. My moments with Nienna were ours. And what of me and Eldeiade? I could only hope he didn’t see more than I had.
“I’m asking you as a father,” he said, eyes rising like steel drawn from the sheath. “Keep it in your trousers. Show a scrap of respect for me and my station. I want your word no one will find you the way Ronan did. I won’t have whispers about my daughter’s skirts flitting about my ears at the dining hall.”
Could I promise that? Could I resist her—resist myself? Nienna ignited every hunger I had, an addiction I couldn’t curb.
But if her father demanded this, I could honor his request.
“I’ll not bed her until the wedding. You have my word.”
A flicker of guilt burned behind the words. His eyes narrowed. He’d caught the phrasing.
“It’s settled then,” he said, leaning back. “Negotiations start after the hatching. I look forward to it.”
So did I.
It couldn’t come soon enough.
