Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Nienna
Kallias lingered with me in the garden. Cool shade pooled beneath the arbor, a faint chill threading the air, yet sweat slicked my spine and dampened the nape of my neck as I yanked weeds from stubborn soil.
The scent of crushed mint and torn roots rose sharp and green.
Under his scrutiny, I spared certain plants for trimming, tugging free only the invaders and those that took root in the wrong bed.
After a time, he crouched beside me and drove his hands into the loam.
Earth packed beneath his nails as he cleared the beds at my side.
Sunlight flashed against the silver in his beard; the lines at the corners of his eyes carved deeper while he wrestled a thick root from its hold.
The chains of his mantle clinked with each pull, and his overcoat stretched across his back, fabric drawn taut over flexed muscle.
Greaves kept his distance near the cypress wall, posture relaxed.
His attention drifted to Kallias, quiet approval softening his features.
A faint crease formed at one corner of his mouth, the hint of a hidden smile.
Then his brown gaze slid to me. He dipped his chin once, encouragement without words.
What king would stoop to weeding a garden?
None other than Kallias.
Not the courtyard plots where courtiers lingered and gossip bloomed thicker than roses. These were the queen’s gardens, tucked behind stone and ivy, sealed from idle eyes. Invitation only. Silence broken by bees and the rasp of leaves.
I came here as an escape, to work off my temper.
Soil beneath my nails steadied me. Manual labor dulled my frustrations.
Tsunami joined me. She padded between the hedges, snout buried in thyme, snorting at my muttered complaints as though she followed every word.
Kallias might have sought the same refuge, a brief forgetting of councils, traitors, and kingdoms.
“We ride out tomorrow.” He pried my fingers from a fragile stem and redirected my hand to a weed strangling the base.
I ripped it out with a vicious yank, dirt scattering across my skirts. “I’ll tell Alma. Though I’m certain she’s already prepared. She’s proving to be quite reliable.”
“She holds an envied seat. I expect her to do well.” He shoved back a shrub and stripped a fistful of dead leaves, dropping them onto the path. Dry foliage crackled underfoot. “Lean on her. Remind the people of your rank while I’m gone. I’ll return as soon as–”
“You think to leave me behind?” I turned on him, soil streaking my palms.
He caught my stare and held it as he released the weeds, then sat on his heels, breath measured. “Chasing down a traitor is no place for a queen.”
“I rode from Mon to Reem. Explain how this differs.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. His blue eyes hardened, winter-bright. “I need someone at my back whom I can trust, reigning in my stead. Hunting Tallon will not be simple. It ends in battle—depending on where I find him.”
“Let Fallione stay. I intend to ride at your side.”
“And would the midwives claim it safe to sit astride in your condition?” His brow lifted, testing.
“Edith would.” Laughter slipped from me, rough and brief. “Draconis women mount dragons heavy with child. I can manage a horse.”
“I need Fallione with me.” His tone leveled, iron beneath it. He could be swayed—and he would be. I refused to be left behind in some gilded cage dressed as protection.
“Then let Alma and the staff do their work. Have the Threshers secure the palace. We end this with Tallon. Chase him to the mountains and toss him off.”
“If he crosses the Craggs, I’m not following.” His shoulders tightened, mantle chains chiming softly.
“You would let him go?” The thought scraped raw. I had no interest in chasing a spoiled brat into enemy territory, but after what he’d done to me, the idea of Tallon roaming free felt obscene.
His eyelids lowered, sealing away the sky of his irises.
Lines etched deeper across his face before he opened his eyes, conflict laid bare.
“As much as I crave justice and wish to see him pay for his crimes—I’m too old to survive another war.
I will not start one.” His gaze settled on the swell of my belly.
“I spent my life chasing a future, and I forgot to live. Now happiness stands within reach. I won’t let him take that from me.
” A crooked twist touched his mouth, closer to ache than humor.
“You married a man past his prime. I have few days left to squander. If he retreats over the Craggs, I’ll wipe my hands of him, post dragons along the peaks, and return to Reem.
I shall happily live the rest of my years with my family in peace. ”
Peace. That single word beat beneath every choice he made.
With Eldeiade beside him and Tallon forever at his heel, it had always remained a distant horizon.
He secured that much-needed calm for his nation, yet his soul would never hold that same rest. Now he tasted the possibility, fragile as early frost. But with that monster loose in the world—it threatened that quiet.
Would Kallias ever relax enough to stop looking over his shoulder?
Sleep without listening for pursuit? Would I?
Could we trust that Tallon would make a home in Vellos and leave us alone?
I wiped dirt from my palms and met his gaze. “Then we best find him before he crosses.”
Alma huddled beside Fallione, heads bent over a scatter of reports and supply logs.
Parchment rasped beneath their fingers. Ink smudged the edge of Alma’s thumb.
They leaned so close their shoulders brushed, her thigh pressed to his as their voices dropped to a murmur.
I doubted they even noticed their proximity.
I smothered my smile, though warmth tugged at the corner of my mouth as my handmaidens readied my things. “The black one.”
Kallias glanced toward the gown Freya tucked into the trunk, pitch-colored silk threaded with gold along the bodice.
The journey would be swift and punishing, a mirror of our mad dash from Mon. Freya would ride with me while Edith stayed behind.
She had argued in her restrained way, pressing her palms together, chin lifted in polite defiance.
No queen should travel without a midwife—not in my condition.
I refused her. Years weighed on her bones, and the road to Phares would show little mercy.
Besides, it was too soon to know whether my body would carry this child to term.
If that loss came, it wouldn’t be from saddle or strain.
A painful ache squeezed my chest at the thought.
What if I lost the babe? Guilt coiled low in my gut.
Sea beneath, it would crush Kallias. He’d never admit it, but hope frightened him more than war ever had.
His voice always lowered when he spoke of a family, gaze searching for listening ears.
He chose every word with care, barely mentioning ‘babe’ or ‘child’ outside of whispers in my ear.
Enough. I couldn’t dwell on it. Whatever happened, the gods would shoulder what they willed.
A gasp snapped my focus back to the room. Alma jerked upright, cheeks aflame as she eased away from Fallione. He blinked, rubbing the nape of his neck before shifting a careful inch to the side. She nudged her spectacles up and gathered her papers into a neat stack, stealing a glance at me.
Caught.
I hid my smile with another command. “The dark boots. One pair will suffice,” I said, keeping my tone neutral as Freya folded the leather with a soft thud.
Fallione might have been older, but he was sweet and kind. Loyal, too. If Alma entrusted her heart there, she would not be mishandled.
Still, that was a matter for matchmakers. Not queens.
“It will be a hard ride to Phares,” Kallias said, rolling a tunic tight before slipping it into his pack. “Then we head east.”
“If he lingered in the villages before heading for the Craggs, we can overtake him,” Fallione replied, tapping a marked route on the map.
“We have dragons. Why not send Erwin and Artorious ahead to scout?” I lowered the book resting in my lap, the leather cool beneath my palm.
“Their presence could drive him deeper into hiding.” Kallias shook his head. “I can’t afford to lose any advantage.”
“Artorious can climb high enough to pass as any speck against the clouds. Unless you fear he will descend and burn the traitor where he stands.”
A faint crease formed between my husband’s brows. “While I have every faith in your authority over your dragons—I’d rather they stay with us. They must land eventually, and Radaan is not prepared for beasts dropping from the sky without warning.”
“Then we ride to Phares first. After that, they scout ahead.” I held his gaze.
Dragons were not ornaments. They were power.
Why have them if we weren’t going to use them?
Because he didn’t trust them, and worried over the damage they might cause?
It would take time, but he would learn to wield them.
That was part of why he married me. I understood my hatchmates. They were mine as much as I was theirs.
He paused, tunic half folded. “They do not engage. They do not land. Scouting only.”
“Agreed.”
Greaves released a low snort that sounded suspiciously amused before he resumed his packing.
“I’ll leave the Threshers behind.”
The reaction to my words was immediate. The guard’s head snapped up, confusion tightening his features before he looked to Kallias for explanation.
“We’ll be together,” I said before he could answer. “They have more important tasks. Reem requires protection.”
A scoff left Kallias’ throat, and I straightened in my seat.
“She delights in getting under your skin,” he told Greaves. “Still, they hold value on a battlefield. One rides with us. Claus or Lynx? Choose. We won’t be together every waking moment, and you’ll need a guard.”
“More than one,” Greaves muttered, giving me a quick glance before shoving twin daggers into his pack.
I barely had to give it any thought. “Claus.”
He stilled, eyes closing for a beat. Disappointment flickered across his face. Lynx was his preference—but he thrived within the palace walls. Claus, however, knew mountain roads and foreign inns.
Kallias’ mouth curved at his friend’s reaction. “Done.”
When trunks were latched and straps tightened, Alma and Fallione slipped out mid-discussion, voices fading down the corridor. I dismissed Freya and Edith, the door clicking shut behind them. Silence settled.
Thin linen skimmed my skin as I stepped from the dressing room, arms folded against the night’s chill.
Greaves’ gaze swept over me, jaw tightening in a full display of his mounting frustration. “For the record, I don’t think you should come.”
“I do not recall asking your opinion.” My brows lifted at the blunt remark, lips parting in shock.
“I did,” Kallias said, adjusting the tie of his sleep trousers. “I asked for his honesty—and he’s giving it.”
“It is not safe, and you both know it,” Greaves continued, voice roughened by restraint.
He reached beneath his mattress and drew out a slim dagger.
“The logical choice is to leave the queen behind while the king rides to battle. Especially when she carries the heir.” The sheathed blade angled toward my abdomen, emphasizing my pregnant state.
“By the gods, love robs people of all sense,” he added, then shifted the weapon to point at Kallias’ chest. “Claus’ ink is barely two years old. Lynx has six. And you let her decide between them.”
“Lynx is bound to the Golden Palace,” I said.
He was upset, but not angry. His frustration felt more theatrical than furious.
“And he was raised in the south,” Kallias muttered, then stretched his back with a low groan. “Claus hails from Glon. He knows the mountains.”
“You told me I could pick her guard,” Greaves pressed. “I can’t protect you both.”
“Greaves,” I mused, “who do you worship?”
His stare sharpened. “Do not drag the gods into this, Dragon’s Heart.”
Laughter burst from me, sudden and bright as I brushed hair from my face. He knew where I was going, telling him to trust in his gods, and he called me on it.
“Enough,” Kallias murmured, sinking onto the bed.
Greaves crossed the room in three long strides, then offered the dagger. When I wrapped my fingers around the hilt, he did not release it. His grip held firm until I met his gaze.
“You wear this. Each day we are away from Reem. Keep it hidden, but within reach. Beneath your dress. Above your womb. Those slits in your skirts make access easy enough. Up your sleeve, in your boot. I don’t care. I won’t catch you without it.”
Our attention shifted to Kallias, who watched with a deepening frown.
“Don’t make me search her for it, Kal.”
“You dare, and I’ll remove your right thumb.”
Greaves let go. I lifted the dagger toward the lantern’s faint glow. Black hilt. Plain sheath. I eased the blade free an inch.
His hand clamped over mine, tugging my fingers away from the smooth metal. “It’s poisoned. Don’t touch it.” He tapped a small vial strapped along his bandolier. “I carry the antidote, but let’s not test it unless we have to.”
The weapon slid back into its sheath.
“May you never need it.” Armor thudded as he shrugged it off and set it beside his bed.
I traced the strap with my finger and glanced at Kallias. Greaves had already turned away, conversation finished in his mind. My husband gave a small shrug and lay back.
Security and comfort wrapped around my heart, thick as wool. Between those two, I was safe. Nothing could harm me.
I placed the dagger within arm’s reach and climbed into bed. The mattress dipped beneath our weight as Kallias gathered me close. His palm settled below my navel, broad and warm, a silent vow of protection pressed into my skin.