Something slammed behind me.
I whirled.
Kallias filled the doorway. Cold detachment masked his face as he lifted a fallen frame, brushing dust from the glass. His jaw flexed before he set it upright, turning it toward me.
A young boy smiled out from the canvas. Black hair. Green eyes. A toy horse clutched in small hands.
Tallon.
“I didn’t mean to–” The words tangled in my throat. My fingers dug into the bandages, searching for release. Nothing came. This wasn’t mine to witness. To see him reduced, humiliated by a woman long gone—it felt intrusive. Wrong.
My Kallias was unshakeable. Confident. Untouched by doubt. The man before me offered no softness. Glacier-blue eyes barred every emotion.
“These are your rooms now.” His voice carried no inflection. He didn’t glance at the painting above the bed.
“I shouldn’t have claimed them yet.” Guilt twisted tight as I folded my arms around myself. “I should’ve asked before bringing anyone here.”
“You brought someone here.” Fury cracked through the words, fists clenching at his sides.
Heat flared across my cheeks. “Not this room.”
He drew a slow breath, eyes closing, and I hugged myself tighter, chastened.
“Nienna.” His gaze met mine, struggle flickering beneath restraint. “This palace is yours. I won’t have you fearing where to tread.”
Relief loosened my chest. He wasn’t angry with me.
“Come here.” He stayed rooted in the doorway, the darkness holding him back.
I crossed the distance without thought, and he offered a brittle smile.
“There are things I wish you hadn’t seen,” he said quietly. “But I’m not angry. This is your home. Your domain.” His gaze slid away from the wall. “You’re queen now. Decorate it as you see fit.”
“Even if I clear this room, would you ever want to join me here?” I searched his face.
His eye twitched. “Perhaps. Depends how welcoming it becomes.”
“I want them gone. All of them.” Hatred colored my whisper.
“Then they’ll go to the archives.”
“No. Some will be nothing more than heaps of ash when I’m done with them.”
Relief flickered across his eyes. “Burn whatever you wish.”
I exhaled, then leaned into him. His arms closed around me, firm and steady.
“I can’t understand why you ever let her commission such a thing.”
His body went rigid, fingers biting into my sides. “Don’t assume I allowed anything.” Anger roughened his voice. “No more than I allow you. You’re my queen, my equal. While I lead, I have limited power over you.”
We held each other, and any response I managed remained elusive. This was uncharted territory. I wanted to rage, to curse her name for the pain she’d caused him. But that wouldn’t fix anything.
“I didn’t pose for it,” he murmured. “There’s no scar from the foothills.” He pulled back, a smirk curving his mouth as he brushed my hair aside. “You’d been here only weeks, and you saw more of me than she ever did.”
I grinned, recalling the rough sketch I’d drawn while my mind had wandered. That thick, jagged scar along his chest—the one now crossed by another from my father’s blade—was the detail that marked him as my future father-in-law.
Naked.
