He didn’t say it. But he did not need to.
“If you insist on risking your life,” his eyes lingered on my belly, pain threading through frustration, “then take Greaves with you.”
He shoved his chair aside. Wood scraped stone.
“Kal.” Greaves caught his arm. “My duty is to protectyou!”
Kallias glanced over his shoulder, and his glare pinned me where I stood. “Then protect my heart.”
And he left.
No goodbye. No promise to meet me later. The air seemed stripped of oxygen. Fractures pierced and splintered through my chest.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. We fought too hard for this love. We didn’t surrender everything comfortable and familiar only for us to fracture. No—we didn’t claw through blood and flame, trade peace for horror, to arrive here.
Dragonfire, he once called me.
And I refused to sit by and watch. Fire did not stay idle while steel bore every blow. But he was the strong soldier who’d always worn that armor. Could he ever share that burden? Could he let me carry even a sliver?
Greaves hovered at the threshold, torn.
“Go,” I choked, waving him off. “He tolerates his guard more than his wife.”
His arms crossed. “I don’t obey him because he is the king. I obey him because he is my friend. And because he knows what he’s doing.”
“And I’m just a foolish princess who knows nothing.”
His blank expression was condemning enough.
I collapsed back into my chair and covered my face. The wood beneath my palms felt rough. Was this the cost of loving a man who had already suffered these lessons?
“I’m sorry you witnessed that,” I murmured, the words muffled by my hands.
“I cannot imagine what you mean.” Fallione sipped his tea, porcelain clinking. He was a true advisor, a valuable piece of our court. He knew his place and how to help. Without him, this would’ve been so much harder.
I let him pretend he hadn’t just witnessed an argument between his king and queen, but Marie? She had to have heardus, at least some of it. But she lingered in the kitchen, perhaps too fearful of invoking my wrath.
“I am not angry with him,” I said, trying to coax her back. “He is King. He understands war far better than I.”
Which meant I should trust him and not venture into homes like this that linked the Heart to the surface. Surely her entrance to the hidden city was barred shut. Still, I had guards at the door—and now Greaves—to keep me safe.
“He has been at it nearly as long as you’ve been alive,” Fallione said with a wry smile. “He knows his tactics. And he’s right, of course. I should’ve known better than to bring you out in the open so soon.”
“Do not change sides now.” A brittle laugh escaped me as I stirred tea gone cold.
Marie never brought Kallias his cup.
I turned toward the shadowed hall. “Marie?” No answer. The house felt wrong. Too still.
When she didn’t respond, I rose. Crossed the threshold. “The king has left. He won’t need”–
Blood pumped onto the floor in violent gushes, each pulse thick and dark against the pale stone. It spread in hot sheets, metallic scent flooding the air. Her head bent back at a grotesque angle, throat torn open, skin split wide to reveal glistening muscle and bone.
My hand flew to my mouth.
Fingers clamped down on my arm.
I screamed and dove for the dagger strapped beneath my dress, silk tangling around my wrist. Fallione slammed into me with crushing force, shoving his body between mine and the Velli. My spine struck the wall. Stone bit through fabric. My heart battered against my ribs.
