“What did I do now?” He cast me a curious glance, eager to hear how he had wronged her, likely so he could repeat the offense.
“They make combs, you know?” I pressed my lips together as a servant set his bowl down.
He chuckled, then dragged a hand through his unruly hair, giving it a careless shake. “It’s from the wind.”
A quiet sigh escaped me, though relief warmed beneath it; I was glad to have him there. With Kallias at one side, Ronan at the other, and Greaves nearby, I felt as if I could face anything.
Nobody dared to approach our table to converse with us. The court kept its distance, their hushed murmurs tucked behind ringed hands as the meal wore on.
Still, I sensed it: their tension and scrutiny, their judgment aimed squarely at me. Ronan’s presence sharpened it, their disapproval of him sitting beside me pressing close. They knew he remained only because dissent simmered. Had they accepted me in Tallon’s place, he wouldn’t need to be here.
And that’s what it came down to. That truth lingered beneath everything. They disapproved of me and how things happened.
My teeth caught my cheek as I bit into the roast. Startled, I dabbed at my lips, masking the sting. There had to be a path forward, a way to win them to my side. As Tallon’s bride, I would’ve had time. I could have integrated myself into their court, earned their regard before ever touching the throne.
Now all I had were the vile whispers and rumors the bastard prince spread. And their fear of my dragons. That wasn’t respect. It was begrudging obedience borrowed from Kallias.
We finished the meal in near-silence. It was stifling. And by the time my husband rose, I wanted nothing more than to escape their stares.
He guided me from the dining hall, through winding corridors, to a small kitchen. The same one he’d brought me to long ago, where I met the cook who brewed his cider and kahve.
That man was dead now.
Another stood at the stove, tending a pot. Steam filled the space, carrying the scent of warmed spices and crisp apples. He seemed to have expected us, filling two mugs, then offered them with a bow.
Greaves took Kallias’ drink, breath fogging as he blew across the steaming liquid. He stayed in step with us, warm brown eyes sweeping the corridor, alert even as he tested a sip. A low grunt followed before he returned the cup to Kallias.
Heat bled through the plain ceramic into my palms as we headed for a familiar spiral staircase. A grin crept in the moment the wrought-iron came into view.
I hurried ahead, crouching to brush my fingers over the small cluster of frog eggs tucked against the first step. Joy surged, bright and nostalgic, while the chill of iron under my touch grounded me with the sense of coming home.
With the hall vacant, there was no one to witness my breach of decorum. I turned a radiant smile up at Kallias.
Lines creased at the corners of his eyes as he grinned back, then he lifted his cider for a sip with a tilt of his head. “Did you miss it?”
“I did.” I straightened, fingers skimming the thin vines climbing the rail before I drifted up a few steps to graze the enormous carved bug his mother had insisted on adding. “It’s strange, but this feels like home.”
A low sound left him as he followed, tracing a flower that spiraled up the center pole. “This is where you first sought sanctuary.”
“Where I first felt safe.” I nodded. The only place in Radaan that had ever given me that sense of security.
Aside from Kallias’ bed.
Greaves cleared his throat, his stare locking onto his king. The impatient look urged us to move, and I laughed under my breath as I climbed to the landing.
My husband opened the door, though his guard slipped past me first. I lifted a brow and took a drink while he circled the balcony, checking every shadow. When a dragon passed overhead, his hand snapped to the sword at his hip before he caught himself. With a glare sharp enough to draw blood, he gave us a curt nod and retreated inside, no doubt sparing himself our declarations of eternal devotion.
Darkness had settled; the sun long gone. A rough chirp sounded, followed by a croon, the rush of a passing dragon tugging at my hair. I leaned against the railing, squinting into the dark. Dragon-shaped shadows blotted out the stars, the beasts too distant for me to name.
Kallias slid his arm around my waist, following my gaze. “He’s just doing his duty.”
“As are my dragons.” I nodded toward the two shapes circling overhead.
“It will make the people nervous,” he said, breath easing out as he cradled his cider. “This isn’t how I wanted them to grow accustomed to the beasts.”
My attention dropped to the cup in my hands, thumb tracing the rim. “They’ll settle in the Craggs soon enough. Distance will dull the fear if they aren’t a constant presence.”
“They were meant to be a symbol of hope and protection.” His jaw tightened. “Instead, they’ve set our cities aflame. Radaan knows them only as destroyers.”
