I trailed a hand over the blanket, feeling its comforting bulk, the bumps and knots from inconsistent tension, letting memories of my mother and her gentle scolding wash through me.
“Ah, you’ve finally seen the light,” he mused. “Trouble in the marriage bed?” He spun a chair to face me, straddling it with a cocky grin. “I warned you about marrying an old man.”
“Oh, shut up.” I scowled, tugging at a frayed thread. “The siege will start at the manor. I’ll need Gyrak. The rest of the fleet willremain on the plains. I think it best the riders move on foot—until the ballistas are dismantled. Then the dragons can rain fire from above.”
“Youthink.” He cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “Sea beneath, what did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything.”
“You practically worship the ground he walks on, praying to the air to make him happy, and now you’re plotting behind his back? Tell me, how’s your dear old husband going to take that?”
“He will be informed.”
“After you make all the calls? ‘Oh, dearest—I know you have the most horrible compulsion to control everything, so here, I’ve made all the plans. You just have to be there. Oh, and while you’re at it, do light up for us, would you? We could use a target.’”
I chucked a pillow at him.
He took the blow across his cheek and grinned. “I like this side of you. Let’s do this more. When are we dumping him in the ocean and taking Reem for ourselves?”
“Ronan, I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
“You immature, reeking pile of dragon dung.” My face sank into my hands, rubbing at my temples. Nausea curled through me like a slow tide. It never fully receded, always lingering, scraping away at resolve like waves on stone.
Maybe my place was in camp. I couldn’t imagine being in the midst of battle, having my stomach turn because I moved too fast or got a whiff of something strange.
“We’re attacking tomorrow.” His voice softened, almost apologetic, though mischief never truly left him. He steered me back to the matter at hand.
I hugged myself. “I want you to take me on Gyrak.”
His brow furrowed, concern evident. “When we clear the mountain pass?”
“Yes.”
“The saddle only holds one, and it will probably take more than a single dive.”
“I’m prepared.”
“You might be, but is your husband?” He was actually serious. No mirth touched my brother’s eyes, just confusion. “Do you not trust Gyrak to back off when needed?”
“I need to be there.” My fingers dug into my sides, clutching fistfuls of my dress. To watch Kallias from afar was one thing, but to imagine him trapped in the mountain out of sight—at the Velli’s mercy—it would drive me mad. I couldn’t lose him.
Did that make me weak? Or did it mean I thought he was? He’d fought those monsters for years, long before I even knew of Vellos. Yet the idea of him disappearing in that mountain twisted my chest. I needed to prove my worth—to fly, to fight, to show that I was not just a game piece. No—I wasn’t useless. I could be a Draconis queen who went to war, and a Radaanian queen who led with pride.
“I assume he wants to leave you at camp?” Ronan murmured, voice full of understanding.
“He wants me to be safe.”
“There’s no place safer than Gyrak’s back.”
Outside, the dragon trumpeted his agreement, and I smothered a grin.
“I know. But I need Kallias to see that. I can’t be left to rot in camp like some maimed soldier. I have to be there with him, fighting at his side.”
“Then tell him.”
I let my eyelids droop, disbelief pressing against my features. “You really aresoimmature sometimes.”
