“Then I’ll close it.”
“Ronan.” My voice stretched his name thin.
He stared, gaze flat, already predicting my next words.
“I need you with him.”
“You want me guarding your husband,” he shot back, “the man who swore to protectyou.”
“Please.” I hated that word, at least when it was being used for him.
He grunted, jaw thrust forward. “For you, big sister.”
Chapter Four
Nienna
Soft waves lapped against the hull, rocking the small vessel in the dark. A muffled groan came from beside me. Greaves was barely holding himself together. Kallias’ severe frown turned toward his friend before he scanned the shore again.
He wore a plain white tunic, and a cloak fastened down to his navel. The shape of his mantle showed beneath the thick black fabric, easily mistaken for armor. A longsword rode his hip, lending him an unmistakably intimidating air.
Fallione and Ronan rowed us in, oars cutting the water without a sound. Above, a whisper of leathery wings marked Gyrak’s descent as he flew ahead to land.
Resentment still scraped at me over being left behind with Fallione and Greaves. The choice made sense, yet the sting lingered. I wanted to hear the people speak of Tallon’s coup. Support would mean danger. Unease would mean opportunity.
But a good queen waited. She watched. She bided her time before striking.
Familiar anger coiled around my ribs, hard and hot as dragonscale. Tallon would pay for this. He would not survive this treachery.
The sky lightened to a murky gray, revealing the shoreline, and I finally understood how Wellmoor could hide a Dragon Ship.
Sheer cliffs rose straight from the sea, their dark faces plunging into the water. Even Gyrak looked small beside them as he stood on the narrow strip of shore, his bulk hidden within the bay.
The cove held only a thin stretch of sand, utterly dominated by the black dragon. No one in Radaan could spot a ship here unless they crept to the very edge of the cliffs above. To the east, a wide bay could cradle an entire fleet, but this place offered concealment instead of welcome. It was the wiser choice.
Questions pressed on my tongue. How would they scale such a height? How long would it take? Silence swallowed them before they reached my lips.
After what felt like an eternity, the skiff kissed sand and dragged us to a halt. The men moved at once. Ronan leapt out with Fallione, hauling the boat farther up the beach. Kallias slipped an arm beneath Greaves’ shoulders and lifted him without hesitation.
I gathered my skirts and raised the hem, stepping onto solid ground behind them.
“You should go now,” Fallione whispered, shifting Greaves’ weight from my husband’s grasp. “Before they spot you clearing the lip.”
The absence of a title did not escape me. The advisor had fought beside Kallias in the war. He knew these moments. He knew the cost of delay.
Far better than I did.
My heart pounded, pulse thrumming beneath my skin, coiled for action. Anything but waiting.
Kallias turned back, caught my gaze, and swallowed. His nostrils flared as resolve set into his features. He released Greaves and strode toward the cliffs without another word.
Ronan spared one last look for his dragon. Gyrak snapped his teeth in silent protest of their parting, talons digging into the sand, irritation rolling off him in waves—emotions my brother clearly shared.
A slow breath steadied me as I prepared to endure the long wait until nightfall. My hand closed around Greaves’ arm.
He had the audacity to try to pull away.
“I am your queen, Greaves. You will let me help you,” I growled, scanning the bank through the dim light.
