Tsunami answered with a croon, adjusting her grip. The black buckling lifted his chin and bleated straight at her. She recoiled, nostrils flaring as if offended by his audacity.
The mountain paths wound on. I walked with a steady stride while Tsunami took to the air, shadow sweeping over us before she lost interest and glided toward the peaks. Goats bounded beside me, hooves clicking against stone. Kids launched themselves from ledges and walls, landing with reckless delight. They pranced along the parapets, inches from a lethal drop, joy outweighing fear. Children trailed behind me, laughter bright as chimes.
Bodies still lined the streets.
No curtain hid them. No illusion softened the sight. Blood stained gray and white stone in dark blooms, copper thick in the air where the sun struck it. The scent clung to the back of my throat. Sol endured. Her people endured. They just needed a reason to find the spark of hope, nothing more, and they would build a blaze from it. Revel in it.
Only the lowest two levels still fought. Fallione had assured me the clashes were scattered skirmishes, not full battle. Kallias had cleared the majority the day before.
Only the interior remained.
Clay or Gayle would have guided me through it with easy familiarity, pointing out hidden corridors and overlooked shrines, teasing me into laughter. Instead, I endured Fallione’s restraint and Kallias’ suffocating vigilance.
“It’s the queen!”
A knot of children broke from two older women and rushed us, bows half-formed before they dragged their friends into a game.
“Your Majesty.” The women curtsied low. “It’s an honor to see you out.”
“So soon after the battle,” one added.
I glanced at the young ones skidding marbles across the ground. “And yet, you let them play.”
“The streets are safer than the Heart.” She tossed a dark braid over her shoulder. “But no place is safer than the manor.”
“I am Draconis. Beneath sky and dragon, nothing can harm me.” I brushed past them.
Others had welcomed me with open arms, despite yesterday’s horror. They were the first to question my sanity for walking among them.
Kneeling on cold stone, I joined the little ones in their marble game. Glass spheres clicked and scattered, cool against my fingertips. I dragged my brother into it, persuading him to stand at my side against the children of Sol. His groan drew excited giggles.
The sun slid past its zenith. Midday found us inside a widow’s narrow home, air thick with baking bread and steeped herbs. We ate coarse slices slathered in butter freckled with rosemary and garlic. It melted across my tongue, rich and grounding. Fallione and Ronan remained while guards waited outside.
The final bite had barely left my mouth when I heard it.
A distant call. Soldier greeting king.
Once, that sound filled me with anticipation. Now it tightened something fragile inside my chest. Would he scold me? Rebuke me for walking among his people? Drag me back to the manor like an errant child?
Kallias stepped through the open door. His face held careful neutrality. The smile he offered the widow stopped short of warmth. Armor gleamed in the sunlight pouring from behind him, polished clean of last night’s blood. Metal caught the light in hard flashes.
Then his gaze found me.
A storm churned in his eyes, dark and volatile. Anger lived there. Hurt festered deeper, raw and unguarded. One wrong word would drown me.
I had caused it. The certainty settled heavy in my gut. And that knowledge—it made me feel so small.
“Prince Ronan, see to your dragons.”
A dismissal.
My heart rejected my brother’s absence, and he hesitated before slipping out. The space shrank. I hated the way I latched onto Ronan’s comfort instead of my husband’s. We fought more than we agreed, but his departure made it seem as if he’d left me with a stranger.
“Your Majesty.” Marie, the widow, pushed herself upright, frail hands braced on the table. Veins mapped her thin skin. Wisps of gray hair lifted in the draft. “Would you like some tea?”
She had lost her grandson when Tallon overthrew Sol. She spoke of him without tears, voice steady as worn stone. Loss had carved her hollow and left resilience behind.
“Yes, please.” Kallias took the small wooden chair. It creaked beneath his weight.
