His hand clamped over mine, tugging my fingers away from the smooth metal. “It’s poisoned. Don’t touch it.” He tapped a small vial strapped along his bandolier. “I carry the antidote, but let’s not test it unless we have to.”
The weapon slid back into its sheath.
“May you never need it.” Armor thudded as he shrugged it off and set it beside his bed.
I traced the strap with my finger and glanced at Kallias. Greaves had already turned away, conversation finished in his mind. My husband gave a small shrug and lay back.
Security and comfort wrapped around my heart, thick as wool. Between those two, I was safe. Nothing could harm me.
I placed the dagger within arm’s reach and climbed into bed. The mattress dipped beneath our weight as Kallias gathered me close. His palm settled below my navel, broad and warm, a silent vow of protection pressed into my skin.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kallias
Phares loomed on the horizon, dragons circling like vultures over a rotting carcass. Dark clouds smudged the sky above its towers, a bruise spreading across the late light. Nienna rode next to me, Gyrak at her side, ready to obey her command. We waited, giving the citizens of Phares time to escape. My soldiers ringed the city, shields locked, prepared to secure safe passage after a swift pledge of allegiance to their king and queen.
And now that time was up.
“We’re ready.” My voice stayed low, meant only for Nienna’s ears. She did not need my permission, yet she lingered beside me, honoring the pause.
Her chin lifted, ocean-deep eyes flashing with restrained fury. Wind teased loose strands of her hair across her cheek. “Let them burn.”
Great claws gouged into the loamy earth as Gyrak stretched his neck skyward. Clods of damp soil split beneath his talons. Ivory fangs, long as my arm, caught the dying sun and flared gold. His body convulsed with a bellow that ripped throughthe plains, the vibration echoing through my bones. Dragonoil splattered from his maw in a dark, misty spray as he screamed his rage at the dragons circling above the city. Our horses rolled their eyes, whites flashing, hooves stamping as they sidestepped from the heat rolling off him.
Nienna tightened her grip on the reins, keeping her mare steady without taking her attention off Phares.
Radaan’s king had offered her people grace, gave them time to flee. Those who remained would beg the mercy of her queen.
Ronan appeared no more than a speck against the massive black as they lunged into the sky with a shriek. Above the city, the dragons broke formation and dove in coordinated pairs, streaking toward the vulnerable wall and the tower that rose behind it. Tsunami trailed them. Riderless, she followed on instinct, wings carving the air with ruthless precision.
My hand tightened its grip on my spear as I urged my horse forward. He snorted, neck arched, hooves dancing toward Phares with restless energy. I never wanted to fight in the streets—to torch homes and shops, the baker’s ovens, the tailor’s bolts of silk, the scent of bread and dye and sweat that meant life. Yet this was the price of treason. Dread settled into my bones, heavy as chainmail. Fingers locked around the shaft, and I forced the sorrow down, raising my guard like a wall of iron.
I would mourn later. Now I needed to be the Warrior King.
Dyre, sapphire scales flashing through smoke, was first to pull up. His wings snapped wide, catching the wind. A rush of dragonfire roared across the plains. Lit oil spilled over stone, cascaded down the walls, splashing in blazing sheets at the base. Matalino followed, vast and gold, his fire heavier, slower, igniting what the smaller dragon had missed. Behind us, thousands of boots struck the earth in relentless rhythm, a drumbeat of judgment rolling toward the gates.
They left a strategic opening, and I trusted Ronan would guide them. We required a clear path to the tower.
The rest could burn to ash.
Gyrak became a streak of shadow as he plunged into a column of ashes and embers. Fire erupted behind him in a concussive boom that rattled my teeth. Tsunami tore away from Breon and Artorious and slammed into the nearest wall. Stone fractured beneath the force. She perched amid flame, smoke curling around her horns, jaws parted as she drew in the scent of death. Blood streaked her fangs. Her gaze tracked our troops below.
Nienna glanced upward, brow tightening. “No.” The word barely stirred her lips.
Tsunami snapped at the air, teeth clacking in irritation. Bricks crumbled under her claws as she leaned low, studying us while we rode through the shattered gates.
I met her stare with cold, unyielding determination. Here, she could scorch what she pleased, but the scabbed ridges along her flanks bore witness to the havoc she had unleashed before.
Her tail lashed, a guttural rumble vibrating from her chest. Narrowed pupils fixed on me. Her tongue flicked, tasting smoke and steel. She snorted, then shifted her attention to Nienna, lip peeling back from her teeth.
Dragons remained a language I did not fully grasp. I could not read what moved behind that molten stare or guess her intent. Still, we passed her without challenge. Soldiers surged ahead, forming a wedge to cut through the city.
Screams split the air. Dragonfire devoured with greed, saturating timber, sending thick smoke rolling through the streets. The stench of pitch and burning flesh coated the back of my throat. We drew damp cloths from oiled pouches and tied them across our faces, the fabric sour and slick against my lips.
A quiet voice within me insisted Nienna should not be here. This battlefield offered no mercy to a woman carrying my child.
Yet she belonged at my side. Her dragons rained judgment from the sky. Nienna was Queen, punishing nobles who dared shelter a traitor. She would never wait behind walls until danger passed. She was the Dragon’s Heart, defiance etched into her soul.
