“Yet mothers possess an intuition that cannot be rivaled.” My gaze swept over the garden. Greaves leaned against a bench, staring into the distance. “Bac has wandering eyes, but I’ve never heard of an affinity for someone so young.”
“She’s old enough for some.” Disgust colored her tone.
I shoved back the repulsion—but it wasn’t uncommon to marry girls off at such a fragile age.
“Not in Radaan,” I said firmly. “I would not allow it.”
“Kallias, tell me Ish’neer and others have nothing to fear from him. I am Queen. I will not tolerate predators in our midst. And I won’t allow girls to hide behind corners, fearful of being caught alone.”
I paused, letting my silence show that I was weighing her words. Her eyes flashed with conviction as she gripped her dress. If Adoni were still alive, he would meet a bloody end at the tip of my spear. Rage boiled through me, knowing she had once been at the mercy of a man’s unwanted attention.
“Do not think so little of me. I may not keep tabs on who the nobles welcome to their beds, but I would never let a wolf roamamong lambs.” I cupped her jaw, brushing a thumb across the dirt smudge. “Bac will reap what he has sown.”
Her chest rose as she drew in a deep breath, releasing it with a heavy sigh. “She practically glows when she’s around her mother.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “There’s a trust, a love there I cannot name.”
Her hand lingered on her belly, and I felt the hope there—our child, learning the same bond.
I had a second chance at fatherhood. I would not hide from my wife, shirking the duties of parenthood behind the mantle. This time, I would stand beside them, guiding, shaping, protecting.
This time, I would not fail.
Chapter Thirty-One
Nienna
Kallias lingered with me in the garden. Cool shade pooled beneath the arbor, a faint chill threading the air, yet sweat slicked my spine and dampened the nape of my neck as I yanked weeds from stubborn soil. The scent of crushed mint and torn roots rose sharp and green. Under his scrutiny, I spared certain plants for trimming, tugging free only the invaders and those that took root in the wrong bed.
After a time, he crouched beside me and drove his hands into the loam. Earth packed beneath his nails as he cleared the beds at my side. Sunlight flashed against the silver in his beard; the lines at the corners of his eyes carved deeper while he wrestled a thick root from its hold. The chains of his mantle clinked with each pull, and his overcoat stretched across his back, fabric drawn taut over flexed muscle.
Greaves kept his distance near the cypress wall, posture relaxed. His attention drifted to Kallias, quiet approval softening his features. A faint crease formed at one corner of his mouth,the hint of a hidden smile. Then his brown gaze slid to me. He dipped his chin once, encouragement without words.
What king would stoop to weeding a garden?
None other than Kallias.
Not the courtyard plots where courtiers lingered and gossip bloomed thicker than roses. These were the queen’s gardens, tucked behind stone and ivy, sealed from idle eyes. Invitation only. Silence broken by bees and the rasp of leaves.
I came here as an escape, to work off my temper. Soil beneath my nails steadied me. Manual labor dulled my frustrations. Tsunami joined me. She padded between the hedges, snout buried in thyme, snorting at my muttered complaints as though she followed every word. Kallias might have sought the same refuge, a brief forgetting of councils, traitors, and kingdoms.
“We ride out tomorrow.” He pried my fingers from a fragile stem and redirected my hand to a weed strangling the base.
I ripped it out with a vicious yank, dirt scattering across my skirts. “I’ll tell Alma. Though I’m certain she’s already prepared. She’s proving to be quite reliable.”
“She holds an envied seat. I expect her to do well.” He shoved back a shrub and stripped a fistful of dead leaves, dropping them onto the path. Dry foliage crackled underfoot. “Lean on her. Remind the people of your rank while I’m gone. I’ll return as soon as–”
“You think to leave me behind?” I turned on him, soil streaking my palms.
He caught my stare and held it as he released the weeds, then sat on his heels, breath measured. “Chasing down a traitor is no place for a queen.”
“I rode from Mon to Reem. Explain how this differs.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. His blue eyes hardened, winter-bright. “I need someone at my back whom I can trust, reigningin my stead. Hunting Tallon will not be simple. It ends in battle—depending on where I find him.”
“Let Fallione stay. I intend to ride at your side.”
“And would the midwives claim it safe to sit astride in your condition?” His brow lifted, testing.
“Edith would.” Laughter slipped from me, rough and brief. “Draconis women mount dragons heavy with child. I can manage a horse.”
