She wiped her nose, and the white linen came away smeared with black. Water splashed in the basin as she rinsed her mouth and flushed her nostrils. I remained in the doorway, watching each movement.
Moonlight pierced the drifting smoke outside and brushed her in silver. The thin fabric of her nightgown caught the glow, outlining the graceful line of her body.
She was no forged warrior. Her frame lacked heavy muscle. Yet steel hardened beneath her skin. Each time I tried to restrain her, she pushed back. Nereus’ words returned to me. She was my Tsunami. A wave powerful enough to drown me—my own wild dragon that would not be contained.
“I tire of this already.” She groaned, then faced me with arms folded tight across her chest.
I gestured to myself, still planted in the doorway. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You cluck like a hen.” She stalked toward me. “All puffed-up feathers, squawking worry over nothing.”
“My dear wife, did you just compare me to a chicken after I stormed an entire city?” Ease settled into my bones. This came naturally, this friendship with her.
“If memory serves, my dragons definitely had something to do with that.” Her fingertips danced across my chest, then drifted lower, skirting the grooves of my abs.
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time you erupt in a fit of coughs.” I lifted a brow, pretending her touch didn’t light a fire within me. Greaves would return any moment, medic in tow. And I already had my fill of her after the siege—it would be too much to take her again so soon. “I shall attempt to suppress my guilt.”
Her hand closed around the front of my trousers, a breath above where I craved it most. “I would burn them all—every soul who dared rise against you. Every enemy of Radaan would turn to ash. A few coughs are but a small price for such pleasure.”
Her jaw stiffened with fierce certainty. Dark eyes gleamed—and I knew without doubt she would like nothing better than toset Tallon and his followers aflame. My breath hitched when her fingers slipped beneath my waistband.
“Your Majesty?” The chamber door creaked open.
My frustration surged, hot and irrational, followed by the agony of her touch leaving my skin. Her soft laugh teased my ears as she moved past me to greet the medic.
I couldn’t send her away. I could no more smother her fire than command my own heart to stop beating.
She would blaze.
And I would bask in her light.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nienna
The dark tower of Phares loomed like a tombstone over the ruined city. Thick smoke choked the sun, dragonfire unquenched and raging. It burned until spent, unyielding to the wills of men.
Morning erupted in a flurry of activity. After the medic examined me, we moved to a lower room, safe from flames yet beyond the reach of smoke. The quiet moment with my husband dissolved under a deluge of messengers, papers, and orders demanding signatures and seals.
“And the protection of the southern orchards, eastern fields—Saphirra has claimed that.” Fallione slid another parchment toward Kallias.
“A tithe of thirty percent goes to Mon.” He signed the previous order without looking up.
“Add a clause that Raul and Cain may take as much as they can carry.” I seized the paper, holding it before me to read the neat script. “We might be on a warpath, but we’ll not forget those who have served us.”
Kallias hummed in agreement, reclining and stretching his spine.
“Your ring.” I extended my hand.
He frowned, brow arching in silent question as he wrestled off his signet ring. Thick emeralds glimmered on the sides, the crest of Radaan dominating the surface. When freed, a pale line encircled his flesh. He never removed it—no king did.
“We can leave sooner if you tend to the tasks requiring your presence.” I drew the pot of warmed wax closer, the heavy gold ring thudding into my palm. “The queen will manage the signing and seals.”
The crease in his brow eased, eyes alight with pride. “I must see to our army, but I would have you there when I address Phares’ refugees.”
“I’ll await your messenger.” Quill in hand, I penned my addendum at the bottom of the order, scanning the harvest lists.
His foot nudged mine beneath the table, toes brushing in the smallest show of affection before he rose. “It will be a few hours. Ensure she is refreshed, Freya.” His quick glance swept over my maid before he departed, followed by Fallione and Greaves.
