I bit down on fear, trying to steady my racing pulse. Draconis. Queen. Dragon’s Heart. Nothing more, nothing less.
He barked out a laugh, surprised by my composure. In a swift motion, he grabbed my waist, hauling me against his chest and settling me fully in his lap.
“I’d wondered—and what a pleasant surprise.” With a flick of his wrist, he raised his glass, signaling a toast. Every Velli rose theirs in answer. “To our future. May Kallias Sunspear rot on the other side of the Craggs!”
Cheers reverberated through the dining hall. Deimos handed me the wine again, like a child being coaxed. “Drink, Nienna. You don’t want to make me angry.”
Oh, but I did. I wanted to see him crack, to witness the arrogant demeanor crumble, to watch his head roll beneath a blade. More than anything, I wanted Deimos Daggerteeth, King of Vellos, to break. Yet I could do nothing.
So I drank. The wine hit my lips, burned my throat as I swallowed, and I returned the glass to the table.
“To the future,” I murmured.
He drew my head close, mouth grazing my ear. I tensed, ready to strike—
But he just whispered, “Very good.”
Tallon was raging. I had never seen him drunk before—but he was the type to burn hot and quick. All through dinner, I’d perched on Deimos’ lap, pretending to be the perfect pet, my voice sharp with teasing, lacing every word with mock obedience, coaxing the king and his court into amused smiles.
Kallias had been right—they didn’t lust as we did. While Deimos’ hands trailed over my body, while he whispered endearments into my ear, I felt the intent behind it. Not hunger, nor desire—only the thrill of provocation. He wanted to rile Tallon, and it worked. The boy’s fury was easy to read, worn openly like a banner.
Where had the cold, calculating boy of Radaan gone? The one who measured, who weighed every glance and word? Now he bared jealousy in raw, burning lines, letting it radiate through the room. He didn’t want me—he craved my title, the authority that tethered me. He wanted power made visible, to lead me around, to have me obey his every whim. And when I sat with Deimos, all that visibility, that influence, slipped from him.
The Vellos king might play fair—but he wasn’t here to protect Tallon. He was goading him into action to cause a breach, a spark to shatter the treaty, leaving Radaan vulnerable and the bastard prince—and his seed—pawns for the taking.
Tallon’s grasp on my arm was brutal. I clenched my jaw against the pain, waiting for the moment he shoved me into my room to jerk from his hold.
The door slammed open. He dragged me inside. But before I could twist away, his grip tightened.
“You’ve been bold tonight,” he muttered, breath thick with wine.
His fingers curled around the key that dangled from the chain on his neck. All thought bled from my mind when he slid it into the lock at the hollow of my throat.
Cold metal parted. The collar loosened with a faint scrape, and then it was gone. Coolness kissed the bruised flesh, brushing against raw indentations where iron had pressed without mercy. The sensation stole my breath. My lungs expanded deeper. My shoulders dropped without permission.
Relief washed through me—sharp, aching, almost painful in its sweetness.
Then dread followed.
No collar meant no barrier.
No barrier meant access.
He let the iron circlet dangle from his hand before tossing it onto the table with a dull clang. The sound echoed through the room like a verdict.
“Egath, tie her up.”
My heart sank into my stomach. I stepped backward, searching for space. I couldn’t do this yet—I wasn’t ready. Solid steel pressed into my belly, cold and purposeful. I wrapped my arms around myself, hiding the smuggled blade.
“She has to be in good health to conceive a child,” Egath warned, striding toward the bed, his gaze assessing.
When? When should I strike?
“If she can lie back and spread her legs, she can conceive,” Tallon growled, hands dropping to his belt.
I lunged, swinging the knife in a blur, slashing a blind arc as I sped for the door.
Tallon roared, but I didn’t pause to see where the blade had landed. It was dull, shallow, incapable of real damage. My bare feet slapped against the dark floor as I hurtled around the corner. Lungs starved, body trembling, I ran—for my life, forthe life of my unborn child. The corridors twisted, an endless labyrinth, but I refused to slow.
