“The beasts sever my connection to Elohios.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, confusion sparking in dark depths.
“I felt it first in the Spire,” I said. “His presence brushed against me, faint. Like reaching for something, only to touch air.”
Her gaze dropped to my chest. Nostrils flared. Shoulders slumped. She blamed herself, her power clashing with mine.
I lifted her chin. “Imagine one man blessed by the gods, commanding beasts of the sky. That much power would consume anyone. This balance… it’s better this way.”
“And do you think your god punishes you for my sake?” Her teeth bit her lip as the door creaked open.
“Some might. But he answered my prayer in the Spire.” I smiled, certain and soft. “I have no regrets. Your dragons shall rule the sky. And I’ll rule from the ground where I belong.”
Freya stood in the doorway, hands clasped, gaze lowered.
“The next few days will test us.” I leaned close, lips brushing hers. “Endure them, my queen. It’s time to be tried in the furnace.”
Her mind still lingered elsewhere, caught on the revelation of our differing powers. Passion, normally immediate and fierce, had become an afterthought.
I studied her bandages. “See the healer. I won’t have Tallon leaving marks on my wife.”
She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “When are you going to worship?”
The certainty in her tone—notif, only when—sent warmth through me.
“After the meeting with the nobles. I’ll need prayer afterward.”
“Perhaps I should visit the Veridis’ temple.” Her voice trembled with uncertainty.
Did she wonder if I’d welcome her?
“I think the goddess would appreciate that.”
This time, pleasure sparked in her eyes. She might trust the beasts of the sky, but she respected Radaan’s gods—a detail that mattered for the people, and for her.
Yes. Nienna was a fine queen.
Fallione scribbled across his papers, assembling lists for me. I would need to share them with Nienna. The thought still felt strange, but if my days were ruled by obligations, she deserved to know them—perhaps even shoulder some herself.
I had never shared this burden before.
“The majority of the nobles are loyal,” Fallione said, quill scratching as I scanned the names of those who vanished alongside Tallon.
That many men couldn’t just disappear.
“Majority?” I echoed, turning a page.
He stacked his papers, frowned, then added more notes, smearing wet ink across his hand. “I fear two may cause a scene.”
My gaze lifted to him, then slid to Greaves at my side. “Verad’gog.” His name was absent from the list.
“And Bac’phares.” Fallione nodded. “Bac will fold under pressure, as he always does. Verad, however, fashions himself a martyr.”
“High opinion,” Greaves muttered.
“I’ve heard how he speaks to the others,” the advisor continued. “He’s aligned himself with Tallon without raising a fist. Useswordsinstead. Subtle ones. He undermines you. Sows discord.”
I’d seen Verad with Tallon too often to dismiss it. Yet he hadn’t fled with him. Why remain, knowing my court would never turn against me? He’d end up becoming a martyr as he wished—all for a hopeless cause.
