She recoiled, shrieking, before soaring into the night. Thunderous wingbeats shook the palace.
I sank onto the bed. Kallias’ face was unreadable, brows pinched in thought. His fingers dug into my thighs, light growing stronger, brighter. “She won’t return?”
I drew a deep breath, reclaiming the hunger that had been so rudely interrupted. “She better not. But best not to risk it.” I shimmied down, legs curling around his waist.
He grunted, bracing over me. A nip at my ear, a searing kiss to my neck, and I arched into him.
In the mirror, his light consumed everything. No bed, no woman beneath him—only Kallias. I surrendered to the flame, letting thought vanish. The primal need for him blazed higher.
He was the sun. Burning, blazing, steadfast and unyielding. Always in its place, necessary for life. His light burned away the fog of doubt, finding me where I stood and holding me. Merging with me, becoming one.
That night, the sky lost a star. It had descended to earth, the blessing of a god incarnate. Every citizen of Radaan witnessed the power of the divine uniting with a Draconis.
I was no longer an outsider. I was Nienna Draconis, chosen by the gods.
Chapter Thirty
Kallias
The light faded through the night. I fought sleep, clinging to the sight of Nienna bathed in Elohios’ glow. My palm rested over her womb, cradling the gentle curve, nursing the foolish hope that our unborn child could feel the warmth and somehow know it was already loved.
When I woke, sunlight had claimed the world. A thin chill lingered in the chamber; Nienna burrowed deeper beneath the sheets, silk whispering against her skin. Her golden hair lay scattered across the white fabric, bright strands strewn like fallen grain.
I brushed my mouth along her neck.
A soft sound slipped from her throat as she arched into me, pressing her back against my chest. Her lips curved in a drowsy smile, sleep still clinging to her.
“The sun waits for no one.” I kissed the rough scab, the texture catching against my mouth. A reminder of what waited beyond this room. My focus had shifted. Uniting Radaan no longer stood at the forefront. We had done what we could.
Now I had a traitor to catch.
And he would pay.
“It stayed up late.” Her voice came muffled, thick with sleep. Fingers tightened in the blanket as though I might steal it.
“I’ll send Alma in.”
She whined in complaint, then tucked the covers behind her back when I pulled away, trapping in my warmth.
I dressed in silence, tugging on my trousers and leaving the laces undone. The door opened with a muted click.
Greaves leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. Fallione and Alma sat shoulder to shoulder on a narrow bench, heads bent over a book. At the sound, it slipped into Alma’s lap. She startled, pushing her spectacles higher up her nose.
“My king.” Their voices met in unison.
My advisor rose and bowed.
“Did you stay all night, Greaves?” My fingers dragged through my beard, pulling my gaze from the pair on the bench. Perhaps it was nothing more than shared study over Radaan’s histories.
My guard dipped his chin. Shadows pooled beneath his eyes.
A low groan left me. I raked a hand through my hair and glanced down the corridor.
“The tower has been cleared for your use,” Fallione said, as expected.
“Alma, attend the queen. Fallione, Greaves—with me.”
I stepped into the hall, then faltered. The urge struck sharp and sudden: to instruct the advisor to bring her bread with jam, something sweet and warm. No salted meat. No eggs.
