Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nienna
“You’re not leaving me behind.”
Kallias froze, fingers stiff at his sides. Even his breath stalled. He would try to reason with me. List every way I could be harmed. Paint the plains in blood and shadow until I surrendered.
“I’m not just a Radaanian queen meant to glitter beneath a mantle, Kallias. I am Draconis—made of claws and teeth. Let me come with you.” I softened the demand with a hand on his arm, feeling the heat of him through his tunic.
From the corner, leather creaked. Disapproval radiated from Greaves like hot iron.
My husband met my gaze, hard and guarded. Another might mistake it for anger. I knew better. His wall was rising, stone by stone, sealing him in as it always did.
Sometimes I feared he hid behind it.
“I am not wearing the mantle.” His voice stayed level, threaded with command. A king’s cadence. “We ride under darkness into enemy territory with no certainty of what awaits.”
“I will be between you and Greaves.” Steel and muscle on either side. I would be safe.
His nostrils flared before he turned fully toward me, offering his complete attention while his height cast a long shadow over mine.
“Your dragons cannot breach the mountain. If something happens, they cannot save you.”
The urge to promise safety rose to my tongue, foolish and fragile. I swallowed it. No one knew what waited at the foot of the Andeluith. He trusted the Harvesters as I trusted the Riders of Draconia, yet they had not earned my faith. Why had this Harvester not brought back the person they claimed so vital? Why summon a king instead?
“You carry a single blade. If I fall, if Greaves falls, so do you. You hold Radaan’s future.” His jaw tightened. “No. I will return before sunrise.”
No.
Simple. Absolute. A king’s decree. All because I carried our child.
“Where is the man who loved me for my fire?” I kept my voice low, though my chest burned with his refusal. I never tried to change him, yet he seemed to forget who I was.
Canvas rustled as Greaves slipped from the tent, granting us thin privacy.
“He is the same man who watched you wield a blade.” The words scraped from him. “Nienna, you belong to court. To politics. You were bred and trained for that, not battle.”
“So were you.” Heat surged up my spine. “Your parents did not raise a warrior. You were meant to rule in peace. Yet here stands the Golden Warrior of Elohios, ready to risk Radaan for a fool’s errand.”
He scoffed and leaned back, whether to give me space or claim it for himself. “A sword was placed in my hand before I couldwalk. I trained with Greaves when we were boys, learning from the finest swordsmen on the continent. I might have been raised to be a peaceful king, but my father knew peace is only gained by your enemies’ fear. Without dragons, you have no weapon. Nothing to defend yourself.”
“I have you!”
“Have you considered what a liability that is?”
A bitter laugh left him. I clung to the knowledge that the sound was not aimed at me. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“I dragged you into this. A queen who refuses the safety of the army. Tallon needs only to capture you and I would surrender everything. Everything I am. Egath knows it. The gods know it. All of Radaan knows what a fool I become where you are concerned.”
“Are you blaming me?” I recoiled. Thin canvas walls offered little shield for our first true argument, yet I would not let that stand.
“I blame myself!” His fist crashed onto the washstand. Wood split. Ceramic shattered across furs, water spreading in a dark bloom. He threw his hands up and stepped back.
My pulse pounded as he struggled to force his turmoil behind that familiar barrier.
“Kallias.” I took a step toward him, closing the distance he created.
His knees hit the small cot, and he sank onto it, elbows braced on thighs, fingers digging into his hair. “I do not blame you.”
