“If you think Kallias will surrender while you hold his precious wife, you’ve gone mad. You need my claim to Radaan. Without me, you’ll never escape this little god-made cage. The Craggs will forever be a prison gate you can’t cross, guarded by Radaan’s Golden Warrior.” He spat the title as if speaking it aloud soured his tongue.
The Velli king weighed the truth in Tallon’s words. For once, the boy was using his brain. If Deimos wished to claim Radaan in his lifetime, he needed Tallon to reclaim it first—and then our child to secure his reign. Without removing Kallias, he had no hope.
The chair slammed against the floor, and the king’s hand slid down to massage Tallon’s tense shoulders.
“You think I need you, Prince. But my grace wears thin,” he said, warning buried in each syllable.
Tallon had to make himself more of an asset. If he continued down this road, proved to be too heavy a burden, Deimos would challenge him.
I knew in my heart he would take Tallon’s blood. The prince might wield greater power, but Deimos carried patience, experience. If he controlled Tallon, he wouldn’t need to wait. He’d settle back, prop up his feet and watch as he used Tallon’s body against me—getting exactly what he wanted.
They were all monsters.
And yet dinner resumed as if nothing had occurred. Threat and bloodshed were routine, mundane to them. An everyday occurrence. I remained rigid and small, letting Egath slide a piece of red meat—still bleeding—onto my plate. Servants filled my cup with wine, everyone moving around me, making choices I could not.
But that stare lingered. Deimos had not forgotten our bargain. I only wondered how long I would have to wait before he acted.
And how long could Kallias hide a fleet of dragons?
Chapter Sixty-One
Nienna
Tallon gripped the railing overlooking the dining room pit, knuckles blanched against iron darkened by years of gore and grease. He lurched over the edge and retched, his stomach ejecting blood and wine in a violent rush.
Two Velli men thumped his back, laughter cracking from their throats as they praised his excess. Another man lay at their boots, pale and slack, lips tinged gray, chest barely stirring.
“Egath, take Nienna away.” Deimos’ order remained calm, pitched low. He met my gaze over the rim of his glass, colorless irises steady. A silent promise threaded the stillness.
“As you wish, my king.” Egath rose, then offered his hand.
While Tallon always jerked me around like an unruly hound, Egath, by contrast, handled me with false respect. He inclined his head, palm open, posture composed. He made the gesture appear voluntary, as though I carried worth, as if I had a choice. For a heartbeat, I leaned into the illusion.
I placed my hand in his and allowed him to guide me into the aisle. The Velli flanking Tallon held him upright as anotherconvulsion seized him, his body folding inward, rejecting what he had devoured.
At the long tables, goblets chimed and platters scraped. Conversation rolled on, thick with roasted meat and spiced wine. Fat crackled on trenchers. Steam rose fragrant with pepper and char. Glances sliced toward us, quick and sharp, then dropped back to plates before Egath or their king could mark their curious attention.
Tallon trusted Egath. A ruinous error. He surrendered me like a swaddled babe to a nursemaid, expecting him to care for me. Egath often escorted me to my chambers. After the spectacle Deimos offered tonight, no Velli would dare question him.
Tallon might rage at my dismissal before his, but he wouldn’t dare take it out on Deimos. No, that punishment would land on me.
Egath guided me from the dining hall into the dark corridors beyond.
“How do you see anything?” I asked.
I despised how my pulse eased beside him. My mind understood that he wasn’t safe. He would tear out my throat if thought he’d survive it. Still, my chest tightened against reason. He stood between me and Tallon’s temper. He saw my needs, knew my secrets. Even if his protection was strategic, he cared for me more than Tallon ever had.
He paused. His touch shifted to my shoulders, trailing along my skin. “There are some things you don’t wish to see.”
“Then hire more servants.”
A flicker crossed his expression. His hand traveled higher, fingers tapping against the collar’s clasp. He drew me toward a lantern whose flame trembled behind cloudy glass. Warm light washed across his features, carving shadows beneath his cheekbones. His thumb pressed to the soft underside of my chinand tipped my face upward. “You are more yourself.” Warning braided with pride and something close to dread.
“Perhaps I realized I would survive and chose to spite it.” I curved my mouth into a smirk, but nerves tightened low in my belly. I could read Deimos and Tallon. But Egath—he terrified me.
“Did you find the servant?” My breath thinned as I spoke, trying to pull his focus from the heat gathering in his gaze.
Shadow deepened across his face. “Not yet.” His voice roughened at the edges, and his touch fell away.
