Greaves hovered near the door, eyes scanning the dim hall beyond.
“It will be but a moment.” Marie reached for her cane and shuffled toward the corridor.
“Let me help.” I rose halfway from my seat.
“No.”
His word struck like a gavel.
Heat crawled up my neck. I lowered myself back into the chair, spine stiff, palms flat against my skirts. Silence thickened between us.
Marie’s steps faded.
Kallias turned his gaze on Fallione, sharp enough to cut. “The mountainside is not secured, yet you parade Radaan’s queen beneath an open sky, in full view of our enemies?”
The air shifted. Even the scent of rosemary seemed to fade with the magnitude of his fury.
Fallione ducked his head and accepted the blame with smooth precision. “Apologies, my king.”
Kallias wasn’t angry at his advisor.
“I’m right here,” I hissed through clenched teeth. Only Greaves and Fallione stood witness. They could suffer seeing us at odds.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
The words struck harder than a slap. My head snapped back as if he had laid a hand on me. He probably used that tone on Eldeiade. Cool. Dismissive. Hiding behind his authority instead of addressing the issue.
“You will deal with me now.” My palm met the table with a crack. I leaned across the worn wood, close enough to see the faint scar on his jaw. “If you have a grievance, you speak to me. You don’t take it out on our staff.”
He tilted his head, slow and deliberate, turning his body until he faced me fully. A dragon sighting prey. “Now is not the time.” Each word landed with controlled force.
“When will it be, Kallias? After you retake the Heart? After another skirmish? Shall you ignore me until then? Leave me beneath the stars instead of in your bed? Let your friend wash the blood from your skin while your wife waits outside the door?”
“Silence!” His face flushed, color climbing his neck.
Fallione stood unmoving, carved from stone, enduring the tidal crash.
Kallias’ lip twitched, as if suppressing a snarl. “You know not what you speak of.”
“You let me walk away.” My tone fell, and I forced the pain in my heart to steep into every word. “You didn’t fight for me.”
“I’d been fightingall day, Nienna!” His fist slammed into the table. Porcelain rattled. Tea sloshed against thin cups. “I needed you where I told you to be. You mocked my command. You undermined my role before the entire army. All of Sol saw you defy your king. Then you ignored my warning and walked into the city with a rider untrained against the Velli, and one of my men died for it. Tell me, was I meant to beg your forgiveness after I begged the widow Fiona for hers? Foryouractions?”
The room tilted. My vision flooded, and I shoved to my feet.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Sit down!” He surged upright, eyes closing for a breath as he fought for control.
Tears carved hot tracks down my cheeks. The man before me felt foreign; armor sealed tight, the warmth I knew locked away.
“You cannot make me.” The words tore free, and my hand pressed against my stomach without thought.
His gaze dropped to the spread of my fingers, then rose again. Guarded. Withdrawn. Smothered behind a fortress wall he built long ago. “No. I cannot force you to do anything. But I once believed you would choose to listen. War is no place for passion. For feelings.”
For me.
