“I knew he had magic!” He grinned.
It was nearly impossible to understand how Radaan could place faith in gods they neither saw nor heard. Did they possess a magic of their own and simply credit it to divine hands? Or had we abandoned gods we once followed?
That was a question for Kallias and me to untangle one night in bed, when sleep refused us.
Hope flickered in my chest, knitting together the broken pieces of my heart as I stepped into the dining hall. We would have years for philosophy. Our convictions aligned—duty, loyalty, resolve—but there was still so much I craved to know. How he thought. How he saw the world.
Back straight. Shoulders set. Chin high. I drifted through the room like a princess worthy of her station. Father remained at the head of the dais, Ronan to his right, Mother to his left. Further down, Kallias held a seat across from mine—but not beside it.
No marriage contract yet. No official place by my side. He sat next to Jehoikim, treated like any visiting sovereign.
Cornflower-blue eyes flicked up, and when I approached, he rose. A flush crept up my neck, and I dipped my head to acknowledge the gesture. A king standing for a princess—it wasn’t required.
My stomach curled into knots. Blood beat at my temples. He stayed on his feet, gaze steady, until I slid into the seat beside Mother.
She remained still, watching him as he returned to his chair. “Chivalrous,” she murmured, lips curling as she spooned up a mouthful of broth.
Pride flared in my chest. I reached for my glass, hiding a smile. If he’d impressed Mother, that alone could help usher along the new terms between us.
We ate fish chowder—thick, creamy, flecked with herbs—while she peppered me with questions about the dancers. Between spoonfuls and answers, she gave me little chance to study my future husband. Likely on purpose.
Still, I caught glimpses. Jehoikim slouched back in his chair, arrogance draping off him. He talked down to Kallias, despite the king’s clear advantage in presence and stature. He played along—leaned aside, sat a fraction lower, subtly offering the illusion of deference.
It was all calculated.
He studied the island chief the way a predator watches prey. And when he understood what made Jehoikim tick, he shifted. Straightened a handspan taller. Shoulders squared. Gold links of his mantle shimmered against the dark leather. He leaned in, gaze unwavering, crowding Jehoikim’s space without touching him.
Jehoikim flushed.
The noble beside him froze, soup halfway to his mouth. Slowly, the man lowered his spoon and reached for his napkin, dabbing with a quiet nervousness as he sneaked a glance at Kallias.
“Nienna.” Mother’s voice cut through, and I masked my smirk, folding my lips tight.
“Shall I repeat the question?”
I blinked, struggling to recall. “No, I didn’t see Williard today. I’ll check on him tomorrow.”
She sighed, eyes darting from Kallias to me with a flicker of irritation. “I’m going to insist on an extended stay after your wedding.”
My brow pulled down. “He needs to return to Radaan.”
“And you need time to work this out,” she said, tone cool. “I’m not sending my daughter to another kingdom as a moon-eyed bride, swooning across the table. You’re besotted, and it’s painfully obvious.”
“You think it will fade?” I shot back, glancing at Father.
He didn’t speak—just watched her, eyes glazed in thought.
“I don’t make a fool of myself,” she muttered, clearing her throat. Her gaze met his, sharp as flint. Color touched her cheeks, and she offered him a pointed glare.
Father took it in stride, then shifted his attention down the table to Kallias. His pale brows narrowed as he lifted his wine. Likely planning a subtle torture for this other king.
Mother’s rebuke landed like a blade. I might be younger, but I wasn’t naïve. A princess must carry herself above reproach. If I couldn’t conceal attraction during a meal, how could I represent Radaan in matters of state?
I pressed my expression into a courtly smile and finished my soup. For the first time in weeks, I lingered. I moved through the room, chatting with nobles, asking about trade and weather, even pearl harvests. I kept clear of Jehoikim but idled near his ambassador, who was far easier to stomach.
Kallias kept his focus trained on the chief and the mayor beside him, but his posture tilted just enough to suggest his ear stayed with me. He leaned. He listened. A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
He was playing the same game I was. And I loved him for it.
