When Fallione announced my marriage to Kallias and named me Queen of Radaan, disbelief had flickered across Cain’s face. Raul accepted it at once, offering his hospitality with no hesitation or reluctance. Kindness, fear, or the presence of a fire-breathing beast may have guided him. Either way, I was grateful for food and shelter.
The flight back to the ship passed without incident, mercifully smoother than my last journey on Ronan’s dragon.
Upon landing, Draconis closed in around us.
I spotted Edith at once. “I need my mantle.” The words left me as my boots struck the deck.
“Bring me the armor of the King of Radaan and his spear!” Ronan barked orders with the same authority our father once wielded.
“And that of his guard,” I added over my shoulder as Edith hustled me away.
Freya broke from the crowd, clutching her skirts as she ran after us. We burst into the captain’s quarters, Edith moving straight to my mantle.
“What’s happening?” Freya asked. “What do you need?”
I straightened, squared my shoulders, and lifted my chin. “I need to look like a queen returning to uproot a bastard.”
Chapter Seven
Nienna
Exhaustion had taken its toll. My body demanded rest, and I slept fitfully for a few hours, tossing and turning in the stifling darkness.
Nerves gnawed at my sanity. It was one thing to show up in a kingdom knowing I would be welcomed. Another entirely to arrive without any sense of how the people might react.
Would they welcome me as before? Would I need Gyrak?
Uncertainty settled like a stone in my gut, heavy and unyielding. Kallias’ arm around me offered the only reassurance I had. I borrowed from his confidence. His plan would work, and we would test Mon’s loyalty.
“It’s time.” My husband’s breath tickled my ear.
My eyes flew open, fixed on the darkness. The first calls of wild birds echoed across the plains, thin and sharp against the silence. He hadn’t slept much either, if those cries marked the hour to rise.
Raul and Cain stepped out with Claus and Ronan. Greaves stayed behind with us, and we readied in steady quiet. WhileI fixed my dress, as best I could without a handmaid, Kallias helped his guard into formal armor.
A noise of disapproval left him as he tightened the straps along Greaves’ back. His friend shot him a dark look, a silent warning.
The exchange warmed something within me. Kallias had me and Greaves. Greaves had me and Kallias. I had them both.
As if sensing my thoughts, the guard’s gaze slid to me. Anyone else would read his stoic stare as anger. I knew better. He would die to protect me, if only for his friend’s sake.
My husband’s signet ring flashed in the hearth’s glow as he slapped a hand on his guard’s shoulder. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
Greaves frowned at Kallias’ pile of armor. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he cracked his neck and stepped outside.
When my husband turned to me, his face had hardened. Eyes dark, brows drawn low. The righteous fury of a wronged king simmered just beneath the surface. He would not wear Radaan’s mantle when we greeted Mon. Armor would serve instead. He would arrive as the Golden Warrior of Elohios.
I moved without waiting for instruction, the gold chestplate oddly warm in my hands. He allowed me to strap it on. The metal conformed to every line of him, settling like a second skin. Beneath the heavy gold lay a thick green padded shirt, meant to shield his body from the armor’s crushing weight.
The act felt intimate, fastening his protection piece by piece, knowing he trusted me with it. Only twice did he correct me on what came next. Plate armor was foreign to me. I knew riders and their leathers, not the unforgiving metal of a soldier’s gear.
His body held rigid beneath my touch, expression locked away. Still, something burned between us, his strength feeding my own.
I was a queen now, not a princess meant for bargaining. He crossed a sea, dueled a king, faced dragonfire for me.
I was worthy of him.
And of Radaan.
