Chapter 30 #2
Fallione took his place at my right. My chest tightened at Clay’s absence among the ranks. He had never worn a general’s crest, yet he served in ways few could. He was my friend.
And I would see him returned.
“We are here to determine how we secure the traitor Tallon.” My voice carried clean across the chamber. “This ends swiftly. Efficiently. I will not ignite another war with Vellos.”
Whispers rose, tangled and sharp. Disbelief. Hunger for blood.
Too much balanced on a blade’s edge. I would not gamble my life and leave Nienna to raise our child alone.
I would not cross the Craggs again and abandon Radaan to its own defenses.
Eldeiade called restraint weakness. Responsibility rested with Tallon and myself.
Once he stood before me, judgment would follow.
Dragons would guard the mountain passes, and any Velli who dared step across would meet flame.
A voice carried from the gallery. “Your Majesty, what will you do when you find him?”
My gaze swept over the nobles, faces blurring into one mass of silk and suspicion. The answer did not waver. “That remains between Elohios and Tallon. May the gods grant him mercy.”
I would not. Not after he laid hands on Nienna.
“Another interruption will result in removal from the chamber,” Fallione said, tone smooth and edged.
“We stand ready, my king.” Xzaphin bowed his head. “Command us.”
“I won’t send you where I refuse to ride.” My palm flattened against the table. “Scouts place him in Helmsgate, moving for the Craggs.” My finger traced the inked map, following the line of his escape.
“Shall the dragons intercept?” Uthiel asked.
Youth sharpened his features—barely into his twenty-third year. He proved brilliant in examinations, earning the highest scores in military testing. I had placed him under Arphix to temper theory with reality and learn by experience.
“As I stated, his reckoning lies between Elohios and myself.” My eyes fixed on him until he held still, reminding him to consider his words before speaking. “Dragons carry only their rider, and Tallon would not survive a trip in their claws.”
“Where does our path lie?” Arphix’s voice cut low and steady. Chin dipped, gaze locked, he studied me as he would a battlefield. Silver threaded through his dark hair. I had watched him return from enough campaigns to trust him in Darius’ place.
“Through Phares.”
Shock rippled through the chamber. A direct ride to the Craggs would steal two days from Tallon’s lead.
“We will not linger,” I continued, pulse steady. “But there is unfinished business to address.” My muscles coiled when Bac rose from his seat. The urge to pursue burned hot beneath my skin. “Afterward, we hunt.”
Bac moved toward the rear doors, posture rigid, steps measured though forced propriety.
I allowed him his retreat. A darker part of me savored it.
No man could outrun a dragon.
“You disagree with heading north.”
Greaves’ disapproval had been a weight all morning, subtle but insistent—not in word or expression, but in the steady pull of shared air over decades.
He grunted, stepping alongside rather than behind me. Fallione’s absence was silent permission to speak freely. “I think you’re letting him get away with too much.”
“Then you approve?” My eyes narrowed. With the corridors empty, no one witnessed our lapse in etiquette.
“Phares has built up years of brush and neglect. It’s ready to burn. But Tallon never acts without planning.”
“Not Tallon.”
“Egath,” Greaves corrected with a shrewd nod.
Both of us knew who truly pulled the strings. Tallon’s immaturity could not account for this chaos alone.
“I’m heading toward the Craggs.” My voice dropped as I scanned the barren hall. “But I refuse to have traitors at my back. If I leave Phares to be dealt with later and they turn on me, I’ll be trapped between them and Vellos.”
“What good are they on their own?” Greaves murmured, hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. “Nienna’s dragons will ride with us. And while the Phares may have backed Tallon, not all followed him in his coup.”
I pressed my lips together. “It makes me uneasy.”
“You already made an example of Lon.”
He assumed I intended to repeat the lesson in Phares. But it was more. Far more. They had scorned Nienna. Takal insulted her. Bac undermined me for too long. By shielding the boy who had dared to touch my wife—threatening her life and unknowingly the life of my heir—they sealed their fate.
I wanted revenge.
“It must burn.”
Greaves lingered, eyes steady, letting the weight of my words settle. He knew my reasoning was as much heart as strategy. And that was dangerous.
“Then so be it.” He fell a step behind as I turned the corner.
Alma guarded a door, seated in a chair with her legs crossed. One foot bounced in the air as she flipped through papers on the small board she carried. She glanced up, pushed her glasses higher on her nose, and squinted at my distant figure before springing to her feet.
“My king!” She dipped into a curtsy.
“I was told the queen was with you.” My gaze fixed on the empty hall beyond.
“Correct, she was.” She scrunched her face, frustration flickering. “Then she asked to be taken to the gardens and left alone.”
“Alone?” I repeated.
“She refused her guards.”
I could almost hear Greaves’ strangled irritation.
“And Lynx? He was assigned to her today.”
If she was going to serve as the queen’s advisor, she needed to be what Greaves and Fallione were to me: a voice of reason when I had none. Fallione, after all, was the one who stopped me from throwing Tallon in the dungeon when he sent Ronan and Nienna flying back to Draconia.
“She has a dragon.”
Of course.
I exhaled, fingers brushing the door. “Next time, the Thresher stays by her side, and you leave the guards here. If she returned to the palace, she’d have no one protecting her while she waited. I trust you remember there are still Velli in Radaan?”
“Oh, yes, Your Majesty. I’m well aware.” She dipped low. “It will not happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
A breeze of fresh air greeted me as my boot landed on broken cobblestones. The queen’s garden rested in the shade of the palace; the balcony rooftop we so often met on loomed above. My mother had been the last to tend it.
Rows of plants lined the shade of the tall sandstone walls, and when I was young, I found cool respite among the flowers. Mother would bring me here to read or to scold me in private.
A smirk tugged at my mouth, recalling the time I challenged another boy to a duel—the prince of a western nomadic tribe, who had dared call one of our maids a soft cow.
Back then, I hadn’t thought a cow offensive—they were useful, valuable—but the tone carried malice.
Even at so young an age, I knew his words were meant to wound.
I did what any honorable knight in storybooks would do: I challenged him to a duel at daybreak.
That day, Mother taught me that some things are better left ignored. Insults might not harm the maid, but my reaction could have sparked a war. We were both forced to apologize and rescind the challenge. They never visited again.
One day, I would invite them back—letting my child have the chance to learn from other nations.
“I’m supposed to know what to do!” Nienna’s voice floated on the wind.
I ducked beneath overgrown arches, following the sound.
“Why can’t you just eat him like Adoni?”
I came to a halt as I rounded a bed choked with shrubs spilling into the path.
A low growl vibrated through the air. I frowned. Who did she want eaten, and why? And wasn’t it Tsunami who ate the Innaku prince?
My boot slid back on the stone, hesitation tugging at me. Did I really desire to confront a dragon today?
A trill of recognition answered, rough inhalations resounding through the garden. She had scented me. I sighed, stepping forward onto the path to reveal myself.
Nienna knelt among the beds, her soft blue dress stained with sod. Her hands plunged into a raised bed, weeds piled at her feet, a perennial my mother had planted now dormant. Dirt streaked her face, the darkest smear crossing her nose.
Tsunami rose behind her, settling into a sitting posture. Her neck bore scabbed gashes, black dots where Gyrak’s teeth had struck. She rumbled, nostrils flaring wide, searching for my scent.
“I’m not sure I trust that dragon more than a Thresher,” I murmured, approaching.
“She’s eaten a man before. That’s better odds than the rest.” Nienna flicked her sleeve across her face, swiping hair from her eyes.
I perched on the stone edge of the flowerbed, idly rolling a leaf between my fingers. “She is chaos incarnate.”
The dragon snorted, trilling in agreement.
“Destruction seems to follow her.”
The trill snapped into a chomp, teeth clashing with audible force.
Nienna laughed, rising to her feet. “I needed to get away. She’s finer company than anyone else.”
“And did you also feel the need to garden?” I plucked another leaf, rolling it with care. Mint had seeded itself through the beds. It would take a lifetime to be rid of it.
“Better to rip out weeds than heads,” she muttered, frowning as she resumed her frantic tug. No mercy. She yanked and tossed each culprit.
“Who has offended you? Surely not the lavender?”
Her eyes narrowed at the stalks in her grip. She released them and poked at their stems. “Lavender?”
“Or perhaps the fault lies with the lupine.” I gestured to the tangled root balls at her feet.
Her lips pressed together, gaze lifting to mine. “That’s not a weed, is it?”
“Depends on your perspective. Farmers pull it from fields where wheat alone holds value.” I brushed a finger over a lone stalk of wheat, tilting my head. “A florist might discard wheat and cherish lupine.”
She groaned a heavy sigh, then leaned back to survey the overgrown beds. “I don’t know these plants, just as I don’t know this court.”
“Nienna, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
I blinked. “When a woman says that, it is never nothing.”
“It is!” she growled. “No one was hurt. No danger came to anyone. Yet I am furious. I know the feeling and cannot abide it—but acting on it would not be queenly. Punishing people for what I suspect? That’s unfair.”
“Which is exactly why we consult advisors and seek the counsel of our partners.”
“They told me nothing could be done.”
“And you’re writing your husband off?” I arched an eyebrow. If she wouldn’t share, I would not force it—but I would ask Alma.
“Is Bac’phares loyal to Takal?” Her blue eyes searched mine, desperation leaking from every pore.
“I’ve never made it my business to track who the nobles bring to their beds. Many take mistresses. If you must know, Fallione could answer.”
“Don’t bother,” she sighed. “Ish’neer says nothing happened.”
She was all of fourteen—heir of Geralt and Muareen, both frail. Maureen had come to retrieve Ish, Geralt being bedridden. She had no one to protect her if advances were made.
“You think Bac brought her to his bed while I was gone?”
“I may be overreading it. A comment at tea…” She pressed a palm to her belly, bracing herself. “Mother warned me when I carried a child, instincts would overrule reason. They could turn me into a dragon if I let them.”
“Yet mothers possess an intuition that cannot be rivaled.” My gaze swept over the garden. Greaves leaned against a bench, staring into the distance. “Bac has wandering eyes, but I’ve never heard of an affinity for someone so young.”
“She’s old enough for some.” Disgust colored her tone.
I shoved back the repulsion—but it wasn’t uncommon to marry girls off at such a fragile age.
“Not in Radaan,” I said firmly. “I would not allow it.”
“Kallias, tell me Ish’neer and others have nothing to fear from him. I am Queen. I will not tolerate predators in our midst. And I won’t allow girls to hide behind corners, fearful of being caught alone.”
I paused, letting my silence show that I was weighing her words. Her eyes flashed with conviction as she gripped her dress. If Adoni were still alive, he would meet a bloody end at the tip of my spear. Rage boiled through me, knowing she had once been at the mercy of a man’s unwanted attention.
“Do not think so little of me. I may not keep tabs on who the nobles welcome to their beds, but I would never let a wolf roam among lambs.” I cupped her jaw, brushing a thumb across the dirt smudge. “Bac will reap what he has sown.”
Her chest rose as she drew in a deep breath, releasing it with a heavy sigh. “She practically glows when she’s around her mother.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “There’s a trust, a love there I cannot name.”
Her hand lingered on her belly, and I felt the hope there—our child, learning the same bond.
I had a second chance at fatherhood. I would not hide from my wife, shirking the duties of parenthood behind the mantle. This time, I would stand beside them, guiding, shaping, protecting.
This time, I would not fail.