“Thank you.” I stood, hand settling on Claus’ shoulder. “I fear this is only the beginning. But I have returned to reclaim Radaan and serve her citizens.”
He rose and folded into a bow. “You wear the yoke well, my king.”
Ronan gasped.
His eyes widened, shoulders locking tight, hands clenched as if bracing against a blow.
“What is it?” I snapped, Claus moving instinctively in front of me.
The Draconia’s prince stared into the distance, body trembling with restraint. His magic. That strange bond with his dragon–
I shoved past the Thresher and seized Ronan by the tunic, slamming him against the door. “What’s happened?”
A blink, and his focus snapped back, tension draining from his frame. He sucked in a breath and gripped my forearm.
“They have Nienna.”
Chapter Six
Nienna
Kallias burst through the door, and Greaves lurched to his feet so fast his chair flew across the small hut. Ronan and another man followed my husband in, but those glacier-blue eyes claimed my attention. In two strides, he stood in front of me, his hand sliding under my chin. I said nothing, letting his frantic rage cool into the chill calculation I knew well.
His jaw flexed beneath silver stubble, concern draining from his face. “Are you alright?”
“Raul and Cain have treated me like a queen.” My voice stayed soft, meant only for him, but the hut was too cramped, too quiet.
His nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath, finally satisfied enough to take in the one-room house.
The two stood near the small mud hearth, their gazes fixed somewhere over our heads. Dark, stringy hair fell into Cain’s eyes, lending him a careless, disrespectful air, though he had been kind. His caretaker, Raul, had shown the same courtesy, bringing us here even after Greaves knocked them both to the ground and let them feel the bite of his steel.
“Welcome, my king.” Fallione’s voice rose from the corner.
With a startled exclamation, Raul dropped into a low bow. His hand flailed for Cain’s arm, yanking him down beside him.
“Rise.” Kallias turned toward them, shifting just enough to place himself between us. “You have my thanks for offering my queen shelter.”
“It was the honorable thing to do, King Sunspear.” Raul’s voice sounded dry and brittle, like sun-bleached rope. “Our humble home is hardly luxurious, but we offer what comforts we have.”
The mud-and-straw hut felt tighter with everyone inside. Greaves and Fallione pressed close at my back, Kallias stood between me and the men, and my brother lingered at the door with the newcomer.
“Perhaps we should sit,” I said.
Fallione came to my rescue. “Raul, Cain. Ronan would love to help the both of you gather firewood, wouldn’t you, Prince?”
He scrunched his face, staring at the advisor as though he’d grown a third eye. “I would much rather–”
“Unless you have secured sleeping quarters elsewhere, we will not use our hosts’ wood without replenishing it.” The older man’s tone left no room for argument, not even from a prince.
“Of course!” Raul called, snatching up his stick and testing the ground before him, dragging Cain along in his wake.
They shuffled out, crowding Kallias back into me and forcing Greaves to step around us.
He jerked his chin toward the stranger. “Greetings, Thresher.”
“Kingsguard,” the hooded figure replied.
“We’ll watch outside,” Greaves said, slipping out and latching the door behind him.
