Kallias appeared in the doorway, broad shoulders dominating the space. The leaves in his layered mantle glinted, plates of his pauldrons steady and unmoving. It rested over a dark green overcoat and vest, the color of the deepest forest moss. Gold vines embroidered his sleeves and across his chest, tangling in the chains.
His expression was guarded, severe and proper, though when his eyes met mine, his expression softened a margin. His gaze trailed down my dress, snagging on my waist before snapping back to my face.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Your beauty will awe the masses.”
“And what do you think?” I teased, striding toward him, fingering the hilt of his broadsword.
“I think you’re ravishing.” His voice dropped, a statement meant only for my ears.
He offered his arm. The lush fabric was soft under my fingertips, embroidery thread as smooth as butter. I lifted my chin, swallowing past the vice that strangled me. My neck was thankfully bandage-free, but that nasty scab ran along my collarbone. Still, the dark wound was less obnoxious than a bright white strip of cloth.
Fallione stood in the waiting room, his mouth kept in a careful smile—but his eyes glimmered with unshed tears. He doubled over in the deepest of bows. “My king and queen, your people await.”
Greaves and Claus trailed us as we left the quiet palace and entered the courtyard. The servants who were missing in the halls congregated in the gardens, hedging a small aisle. As one, they bowed, bodies folding in half as they paid their respects.
A stableboy held two white horses, followed by a pair of blacks. I forced myself to remain calm; the ride from the Dragon Ship to Reem had given me plenty of opportunity to gather experience on horseback.
Kallias stopped in front of a white, dropping his arm to thread his fingers together. I took his leg up, straddling the horse. It stood still under me, placid and calm, giving me no reason to worry.
Within a breath my husband was mounted beside me and our guards behind us on the snorting blacks. He spared me one glance to be sure I was ready and urged his horse forward.
The streets of Reem were crammed; people were nearly stacked on top of each other. Children took advantage of wagons and barrels, searching for better vantage points.
“Hail, King Kallias and Queen Nienna!”
While the servants within the walls were silent in their respects, Reem proper bustled with noise. The people bowed, tossing flowers and ribbons into the cobblestone streets. I smiled, accepting their kindness with grace. This was a moment for me not as the Dragon’s Heart, but as the queen of an earthly folk.
I caught the looks, though—the flash of accusing eyes, the press of lips into disapproving frowns. They were outnumbered by those who smiled and threw roses, but they were there. I only hoped Kallias and Fallione were right, and that by the end of the day I would at least fracture the hard shell around their hearts.
We rode through Reem’s cramped streets, people leaning halfway out of windows, then into the open roads of the villagesjust beyond the wall. It wasn’t a short ride, but a long route that gave everyone the chance to see us.
Above, dragons flew so high they could have been mistaken for birds.
We rode north to the river Hesoth, which passed through Reem and fed the massive fields to the south. Kallias had a bridge built over a calm section, putting his carpenters to work in haste to prepare for the ceremony.
The crowd in the courtyard was a pitiful preparation for the multitude that awaited us at the river.
Gyrak towered above them, flanked by Breon and golden Matalino. Erwin and Artorious circled overhead, tailed by another greenish fleck in the sky. Matalino’s shimmering scales demanded attention, rivaling the shine of our mantles. The dragons’ heads pointed our way, slitted irises trained on our horses.
The crowd poured across the plain, nobles at the front in finery, common folk spread behind—all there to witness the blood mingling.
Alongside the path, the river gurgled, its sound soothing as it carried water to the crops. It was Radaan’s lifeblood, filling her fields and feeding her people.
A soldier in green-painted armor reached for our horses as we arrived at the bridge. My palms were clammy, and I cursed my nerves, dismounting before I could make a fool of myself.
Kallias was there in a breath, his hands secure around my waist. “Steady.”
“I am steady,” I hissed back.
His grip tightened, a small warning before he escorted me to the foot of the bridge. There, we turned and faced the crowd.
Silence fell, even the birds halting their song.
They bowed—nobles, craftsmen, beggars—garments scraping the earth.
But not all bent the knee.
Kallias tensed beneath my grip as a few scattered here and there refused to bow. Backs stiff, chins held high, they stood above the crowd.
