“You’re the one shirking your husband and begging your brother to sneak you onto his dragon.”
“I’m not begging.”
“Ordering then?”
“Don’t make me.”
He grinned. “High Queen of Radaan, most mighty Nienna, Dragon’s Heart without a dragon, I beg of you—command me to carry you on my noble steed so I might take you to the skies against the good king’s will!”
“You’re a rotting eel!” I lunged for the pillow, ready to throw it at his smug little face again.
He kicked it just out of reach, laughing. “I’ll take you. We’re family. What good is a brother if he won’t sneak you into the sky on his dragon now and then?”
I sighed, then pressed my lips together. “Kalliascannothear a word of this.”
“Do you see me frequenting his tent?” He raised his hands in surrender. “Not a peep. At your command, Dragon’s Heart. When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll bring you orders. Be ready at daybreak.”
“As you wish, my queen.” He rolled into a mock bow.
I lunged, snatching the pillow and smacking him across the head.
He yanked it back, and the weathered linen tore under our struggle. Feathers burst into the air, drifting into my hair and clinging to the folds of our clothes.
“Look what you did!” he roared, then grabbed ahold of me, tossing me onto his bed. “I demand that you clean this mess!”
I kicked back, heel connecting with his chest. He flailed, stumbled, and crashed backward, shearing a hole through the canvas wall before landing in a heap on the ground.
Outside, Erwin and Sean froze, mouths open, hands paused mid-motion. Their eyes darted between Ronan sprawled on the dirt and me, feathers floating through the air.
I dropped my legs, squared my shoulders, and lifted my chin as I brushed a feather off my dress. “Good morning, riders,” I said, voice deliberately prim.
Ronan smacked Erwin’s boot, glaring up at him.
“Good morn,” the men echoed in unison, then hurried on their way.
My brother flopped onto his back and threaded his fingers behind his head, eyes fixed on the sky as if he intended to land there.
I fought a smile and slipped from his tent—now with a new, feather-strewn exit.
Chapter Forty
Kallias
Imissed her.
The realization hit me like a physical blow, chest tightening with the force of it. My eyes skimmed the same line of the report Fallione had passed me, over and over, pretending I wasn’t distracted, pretending the words held any meaning at all.
She would have sat beside me, shoulder brushing mine as we pored over the same monotonous reports. Even if she didn’t grasp the significance of three horses being pulled from squad Forty-Seven and added to the Third, she would have asked questions, offering perspectives I hadn’t considered. That curiosity had never been a burden—never a bad thing—even when her advice wasn’t always sound.
But knowing her, she would’ve had insights worth hearing.
Nienna was not a battle-hardened warrior, but she had been trained by parents who demanded excellence. She understood politics and strategy, knew the rhythms of sea warfare, and held an intimate knowledge of her dragons. I was remiss in not asking her to come along.
Part of me assumed she would follow anyway, that her will and determination would lead her to my side. She carved her own path, made her own way. But she knew I was upset. Maybe she thought giving me space was the right course, staying tucked in the tent, letting me calm down on my own.
I had pushed her away again.
