“And they only know me as a conniving princess.”
He went still, brows drawing together as he searched my face. “They know you as their queen.”
A short, bitter scoff escaped me as I tipped my head back toward the sky.
“I was promised to a prince, tangled in scandal with his father, then sent home in disgrace. I tore you from your throne and left your people at Tallon’s mercy. And when I returned, I brought death. You felt it. When Ronan sat beside me tonight, it sealed the coffin. They loathe Draconia.”
He lifted his mug, silence stretching between us. He knew it rang true, just as I realized the words came from exhaustion more than despair. It would pass—I simply didn’t want to endure it.
“Fallione has proposed a Radaanian wedding.”
The shift caught me off guard. I turned back to him, head tilting. “So soon?”
“Yes.” He rotated his drink, eyes fixed on the dark surface.
“You’re not pursuing Tallon?”
“Not yet.” He met my gaze, a flicker crossing his eye. “I won’t allow him free rein or let my kingdom suffer his spite. But right now, Radaan needs us more than it needs his reckoning.”
“And you believe a wedding will earn me your people’s favor?”
“Our people,” he said softly. “They need to see us both as god-blessed. Proof that Elohios has chosen you alongside me.”
“How does a Radaanian ceremony differ from Draconis?” I asked. “Do you truly think a handfasting will sway them?”
“No. There are older ways.” He set his cup on the stone and took mine from my hands. Guiding my palms to his waist, he leaned in, bracing me against the wall. “Traditions far more ancient.”
“Oh?” My pulse leapt, neck arching as he loomed close. “That seems… ominous.”
“It’s entrenched in legend, steeped in religion. If not for the sake of our people, I wouldn’t ask it of you.”
“My, it sounds dangerous.” A curious smile curved my mouth. When my hands slid up his chest, catching in the chains of his mantle, warm metal slipped between my fingers. “And what does it require?”
He swallowed, gaze dropping to my lips before lifting again. “A public display.”
“A kiss?”
“More.”
“An embrace?”
“In essence.”
“Kallias, are you asking to take me in front of all of Radaan?” A strangled laugh slipped free.
His expression stayed hard.
Disbelief morphed into utter shock. “You are!” And here I thought him a little prudish after the mating goats incident.
His composure cracked, and he laughed, teeth catching his lower lip. “On a balcony—out of direct view—but they’ll still know what’s happening. The rite requires me to pray to Elohios and complete the act with his blessing.”
“You’ll be glowing?” I fought another burst of laughter. My gaze dipped as I nudged him back, eyes flicking to the front of his trousers. “All of you?”
“Would you like to find out?” His voice slid into that familiar husky rasp, heat threading every word.
A thoughtful sound left me as I braced my elbows on the wall, arching beneath him. “So you wed me by ancient Radaanian law. Elohios blesses you, and you take me before god and kingdom as proof I’m accepted.”
“Paired with the celebrations and festivities a wedding brings, Fallione is confident it will unite them.”
