It was ridiculous, but I had never.
“I can manage,” I answered, tone flat.
Nienna practically bounced on her heels. “It would mean so much to the people, and before negotiations, it would symbolize peace between our nations.”
He grunted, finally looking her way. “Then for you, I will make one last kite.”
Chapter Twenty
Nienna
There was pride in the way Kallias observed my interactions with my people. It wasn’t just about showing him my world—but also revealing the bond I shared with my kingdom. One I hoped to replicate in Radaan.
After we parted ways with Williard, I brought him to the beaches.
It still surprised me that the master kite maker offered him the last flight. It wasn’t something handed out lightly—an honor he didn’t completely comprehend.
“The final kite is reserved for one held in high esteem,” I said as we threaded through the narrow streets leading south.
“Should Nereus fly it, then?” Kallias carried himself with steady confidence, but his sharp gaze scanned every corner, stall, and shadow before returning to me. He absorbed the world with quiet calculation.
Greaves trailed close, his posture tight, his movements clipped. He didn’t enjoy enclosed spaces.
We stepped toward the wide band of sunlight breaking through the alley, the beach waiting on the other side. “The kites are meant for the riderless. A chance for them to soar beside the riders.”
He made a thoughtful sound, more breath than voice, then took in the open coast.
The air changed. Brine and salt swept in with the breeze. The essence of fried fish clung thick around us. A gust tugged my dress behind me like a banner.
The beach stretched in bleached white, almost painfully bright under the sun’s glare. The people scattered across it broke up the glare—little dots of dark fabric and movement. They clustered near food carts lined along the shore, where fish crackled in oil and steam rose from heavy pots.
Waves moved with lazy rhythm, licking the coast rather than crashing against it like they did on the western shores. It made me think of K’seer—children racing barefoot over wet sand, their laughter rolling through the breeze as they stacked up castles. I’d have to bring him there, too.
Freya strode ahead, her flame-colored braid swinging behind her.
That earned a flicker of interest from Kallias.
“She knows the best foods,” I said, grinning.
She beelined for a vivid red cart where a stout man turned skewers over a sizzling grill. His cheeks were flushed from heat, his tunic stained with oil. Sweat gleamed on his brow, and he swiped it with a greasy sleeve.
“Good day!” he called, gaze flicking from Freya to the rest of us.
The metal tongs slipped from his fingers and clanged into the steaming pot below. Jaw slack, he dropped into a bow so low I feared he might tip over.
“Princess—Your Majesty!” he boomed. The words echoed through the midday chatter, and half the heads on the beach snapped toward us.
I lifted my chin, back straightening on instinct. Whispers would follow. The King of Radaan, walking about, eating street food like a commoner?
It wouldn’t shock anyone to see Freya and me here. But the fact that I brought Kallias?
That said something. It spoke volumes about the trust I had for him—and them.
“We’ll take four Stick’ems with the spicy tartar.” Freya spoke with confidence.
Kallias blinked, the only sign he registered the crude name for the treat. I almost laughed at how well he masked his amusement, but I turned my attention to the vendor instead.
“Yes, of course!” The man stabbed polished bone rods through thick cuts of breaded fish, plunging them into the oil with a hiss. Our presence hastened his movements.
