The words stayed behind my teeth.
Stone met my boots as I strode forward. Few chambers rose this high within the Golden Palace. This tower had been crafted by my great-great-uncle, who had longed for mountains.
It paled in comparison to the Spire—but we belonged to earth and soil, not open sky.
Inside the appointed room, the door had scarcely closed behind Fallione before he began.
“The remnants are clearing the western courtyard. Staff have resumed duties. The nobles prepare for council.”
“Greaves, sit.” I jerked my chin toward the small couch and crossed to the vanity.
He dropped onto the cushions without protest, one leg draped over the armrest, forearm thrown across his eyes as he surrendered to a scrap of rest.
“And the interruption from the dragon last night?” I asked, pouring tepid water into the basin.
“If anything, it made the evening more memorable,” Fallione replied. “I’ve set ears throughout the city. Radaan is quiet. They believe Nienna is blessed, and that the dragons have an aversion to it.”
Water slid down my face as I washed. At least the beast had not shattered the ritual beyond repair. “And the damage to the roof?”
A pause. His lips thinned. “Severe, but not irreparable.”
When a creature with talons the length of a man’s forearm landed atop a palace, that answer sufficed.
“I want a war council assembled. Any word from our scouts?”
“Tallon rode north, but he’s no longer in Phares. He veered east as anticipated. Toward the Craggs.”
The name Phares snagged in my mind, but grief cut deeper. “Clay would never admit him into Sol. Gayle remains secure in the manor. He’s running for Vellos.”
“Your Majesty, consider who rides beside him.”
The cloth dragged down my face. In the mirror, I caught Fallione’s troubled expression. “Fyrn’sol.”
“I question what a father might risk for his daughter. She has aligned herself with Tallon before. We should assume she will again.”
“Claydon would choose death before opening his gates to Velli.” Conviction rang clean and sharp.
He stood beside me for too many years, hands deep in the blood of men torn apart by those creatures. Sol had endured the full span of the war without falling. He loved his daughter. That did not blind him. He would accept martyrdom before sacrificing his people for her sake.
“Then he moves for the mountain passes.”
“Back to Phares.” Wet fingers combed through my hair. “They welcomed him?”
Fallione lowered himself into a chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Takal opened the gates. Our sources say Tallon stayed one night in the estate. Gone before dawn.”
“Phares will burn.” Rage seized the frayed relationship that bound me to Bac’phares, igniting in righteous fury. “This remains between us.” I wanted him to squirm in the council chamber. Let his fellow nobles witness the cost of provoking a king.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Happiness had shed from me with alarming ease. The warmth of the night before, Nienna’s body curved against mine, dissolved beneath hard resolve. I folded that memory inward, sealed it behind stone. The image of her bathed in my light became something sacred. Tallon’s betrayal would break against me like the surf against the cliffside.
I would not yield. Nienna. Radaan. My child. They were mine to guard.
Clean and dressed, I returned to the balcony chamber. My wife and her mantle were gone.
Pride blossomed within me. She wasn’t lounging around; she had risen to her duties. No fondness for soft pillows would keep her from them.
Greaves settled my mantle across my shoulders—its familiar weight steadied me, grounded me with purpose. Metal chains clicked as I fastened them. Fallione continued, voice measured, outlining the state of the army and the horsemen.
