Between Gods and Dragons (The Dragon’s Heart #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Kallias

Darius is dead.

The ink was smeared in haste, bleeding into the torn parchment, proof that it was rolled before it dried. Blots of crimson dotted the weathered scrap.

Despair settled in my gut, heavy as stone. Whispers of defeat hummed through my ears, and I took a seat at the rocking table before I collapsed like a fool. The ship’s lilt offered no comfort as I stared at the words. Vain hope slithered through me—this had to be a nightmare.

“What does it say?” Nienna’s voice was hushed, her eyes ringed with shadows that mirrored my own. She placed a hand on my forearm as my gaze drifted to the map nailed into the table.

“Darius has fallen.” My words held steady, stripped of inflection. The general I entrusted with Radaan’s defense was gone. There was no softening that truth. I lost my friend. Countless Velli failed to kill the stubborn old man, yet Tallon? The bastard prince clawing for Radaan?

My palm dropped to the table, fingers splayed over my kingdom’s name. Tallon wasn’t trying anymore. He succeeded. He was carving his way across Radaan, and all we possessed were frantic messages carried by doves.

And judging by the state of the parchment, this one might be the last.

I recognized the neat script. Clean lines. Precise runes. Each letter began with a sharp stroke before easing into the next.

Clay was risking everything for me.

“And his Threshers?” Nienna asked. Her soft voice carried the only sympathy appropriate for a public setting.

A king did not mourn the loss of his friends while his kingdom splintered.

But a man would.

“Without Darius, they would’ve returned to the temple of Nyryn,” I said. “Unless Tallon had a measure of sense. If he does, he bound them all upon Darius’ death.”

“They’re loyal to you?” The inquiry lingered heavier than she intended. It was the question on every man’s mind. Did I have allies waiting at home, or was I sailing toward my own execution, destined to be slaughtered upon arrival?

“The Threshers serve Nyryn, God of Vengeance. The gods bless the mantle.” I glanced at her then. Lanternlight swayed across the golden scales draped over her shoulders. “Tallon may sit the throne, but he lacks the yoke. I can’t be certain, but I expect the Threshers to answer my call.”

Which opened an entirely different wound.

We knew nothing of Radaan’s condition. Civil war? Quiet submission? Blood in the streets? When we landed, would blades greet me, or banners? Would I be dragged in chains, or escorted through Reem’s gates?

Tallon was clever. Radaan hadn’t fallen by chance. He planned this. Took his time. Every move deliberate. Part of me wondered if he had an advisor whispering in his ear. Deceit came easily to him, but youth dulled his patience. I wouldn’t depend on that flaw.

Still, I stored it away—let it linger in the back of my mind. A blade kept sheathed, waiting for the right moment to press my advantage of age and hard-earned wisdom.

Heavy footfalls echoed through the hold, underscored by the wet slosh of water, and we both turned toward the dark stairwell leading above deck.

“The storm is getting worse. No flying today.” Ronan’s voice carried its own fatigue, and the gray bruising beneath his eyes reminded me I wasn’t the only one enduring this journey.

“It has to break eventually.” Nienna sighed. Both hands came up, palms bracketing her face as she stared down at the map.

The evening we set sail for Radaan, the first drops fell. By nightfall, waves rose in anger, battering the Dragon Ship built for speed. Days slipped by, the storm growing in intensity. Without Gyrak pulling us through the sky, the crossing would stretch into weeks.

“Gyrak would fly if not for the lightning,” Ronan grumbled as he crossed the room and dropped into a chair, water streaming from his riding leathers. Every spare moment found him on deck with the ill-tempered beast.

Though, to be fair, three days soaked to the bone would sour anyone.

“Could your magic bend the winds or clear the clouds?” I asked, leaning back. The ship lurched hard to starboard, and I braced against the table.

Ronan blinked, his lip curling in open disgust.

My gaze shifted to Nienna. She would offer an explanation instead of treating me like an ignorant child.

Her teeth caught her lower lip, brows pinched with worry. “No rider can command the weather. It’s too vast. A force unto itself.”

“Yet your father endured a whirlstorm,” I said.

“He’s one of three Wells known to Draconia,” Ronan hissed. His hand dragged through damp hair, fingers snagging on his flight goggles. He tore them free and tipped out the water. “A feat that won’t be repeated. Not every rider carries the magic of the eons at their disposal.”

I heaved a sigh and glanced at the scrap of parchment still resting on the table. We were caught in this storm until the gods grew merciful.

“Then I’ll petition Radaan’s gods.” I stood, the chains of my mantle chiming as the ship rolled beneath us.

“What good they did Radaan.”

My hand closed on his shoulder as I passed, grip tightening until his teeth bared in reflex.

“Choose your words with care, princeling. You sail beneath my gods’ mercy.”

He shrugged free, and I turned for the stairs. The sea toyed with the ship, slamming it from side to side, and each step demanded balance. Greaves lay below, suspended between uneasy sleep and waking with a bucket clenched between his knees. I craved his company.

Ronan was a Dragon Rider. A Draconis. Pride sharpened by rank, ego fueled by youth. Nienna, gentle as she was, still felt compelled to soften truths for me.

And I remained, despite all of it, painfully ignorant of their world.

There was only one place I could find a measure of peace.

The ship lurched sideways, and I braced a hand against the worn wood. Frustration clawed through me as I left Nienna murmuring to her brother and climbed the stairs, pushing through the door to the main deck.

A growl fused with thunder as rain slammed into me.

I lifted my chin and moved forward. Draconis’ voices vanished beneath the storm as I passed a mountain of coiled black scales.

One golden eye slit open, tracking me. Gyrak kept his head tucked under his wing, refusing to move.

A low rumble warned me away, making his irritation at my proximity known, yet he remained sprawled between me and my quarters.

He could tolerate my presence for a moment.

Water slicked the deck. Cold air cut through my clothes. My boot skidded, and I caught myself as waves struck the hull, saltwater rushing over my feet.

Midday had surrendered to darkness. The sky pressed low and black, night masquerading as afternoon.

Lightning tore through the clouds, a confirmation Ronan couldn’t fly Gyrak without riders to shield him.

Each flare cast stark light across the captain at the helm, steady and unfazed by the storm’s fury.

One last sliding step carried me past the dragon. I stumbled, caught myself on the captain’s door, and slipped inside. Solid wood met my back as I leaned into it. Water dripped from my clothes, tapping against the floor. My eyes closed, head resting against the frame.

Despair clung to me. Heavy. Infectious. Worry rooted in things beyond my reach and a future stripped of certainty.

I had bartered for Nienna’s hand with brutish determination and the promise of a kingdom.

Now I had nothing left to offer.

A king of nothing.

My jaw tightened as I straightened and struck flint to steel. The lantern flared, its light weak, but enough. Ronan would have conjured flame with a snap, but my hands answered to old rituals.

I hung it on a hook, its sway casting restless shadows across the small space I shared with my wife. My queen.

A narrow bed. A tiny desk and humble closet. And, tucked into the corner, a shrine.

A ghost of comfort stirred, pushing back against my helplessness. Elohios knew I served as a conduit for his power. He had blessed my pursuit of Nienna, my honesty with myself, my vow to honor her. He would not abandon me.

Yet unease whispered doubt.

If I had been chosen, if I had truly been blessed, why had Radaan fallen? Was my absence the cause? Or had this been punishment?

My knees complained as I knelt and righted the fallen sun engraving on the altar.

Tallon’s conquest of Reem stood as a consequence. A reckoning born of my decisions. The fault lay with me, and when I thought back, there were a million choices I might’ve made differently.

But choosing Nienna was not one of them.

Like a single cry loosing an avalanche, my heart set events into motion. Desire became momentum. Choice became force. Nothing could be undone.

Only reshaped.

Still—our lives would never return to what they had been.

A ridge from the carved sunray caught beneath my nail, and I rubbed the worn wood.

Elohios, hear me. Grant us safe passage.

Silence followed.

I waited. Hoped. Prayed for a breath of comfort.

Do not abandon me.

My heart reached outward, searching, pleading for the presence and connection that always felt like home. I closed my burning eyes, jaw clenched as my soul sent out fragile tendrils of hope, grasping for assurance.

The ship groaned, wood complaining as it shifted course.

I opened my eyes and fixed them on the sun engraving. Nothing answered.

The storm raged as someone entered the room, the door latched with quiet care. Soft steps crossed the floor, leading to the bed where sheets rustled under a slight weight.

The urge to confide in her, to spill the sting of rejection, tore at me. But Nienna deserved better than a man unraveling at his knees.

I would face this head-on. Like a king. Not a whipped dog.

Rising, I crossed to the closet and began the slow work of shedding my mantle, fingers stiff as I worked each clasp free. My thoughts drifted to Tallon and what he would wear in my place.

A crown?

Would he gorge himself on praise while my people bent over their fields? Parade gaudy gems before men who bled to keep him safe?

Or would he dare recreate the yoke—twist the symbol of shared burden into mockery?

Nienna’s hand found me, gentle but certain, turning me to face her. She kept her gaze lowered as she replaced my fingers with her own, small and deft.

“Ronan will push the rudder as far as he dares,” she said, her voice pitched low, the way one soothed a skittish colt.

“Is the speed comparable to a harnessed dragon?” I asked, memory pulling me back to Draconia, to the raw force of a Vessel channeling power into a hull, dragging it through water like a child’s toy.

“He’s conserving strength for landfall.” Her mouth tightened. “It will be faster than nothing.”

And we would need every scrap of his magic. We had no idea what waited on shore.

We were steering west, skirting the main ports where Tallon would expect us. Gyrak remained our only shield against lighter ships carrying word of our arrival. He was also our sole assurance we could make anchor at all.

Bitterness coated my tongue, and Nienna stilled, hands frozen on the final link. Her gaze lifted, searching my face.

“We will return soon,” she said. “This storm cannot last forever.”

My breath left me rougher than I intended. “My concern lies with what awaits when we do.”

“Tallon will be removed.” Her certainty didn’t waver, eyes fixed on my chest.

I caught her wrist, halting her hand before the mantle slipped free. “You’re holding something back. Ask.”

Guilt stirred. I demanded honesty from her while keeping my own fears locked away.

“Will you kill him?”

Blunt. Fearless. Honest. She asked if I would slay the boy I once called my son, knowing I would not retaliate or punish her for the question. That was what bound us. No pretense. No evasion. A brutal clarity between lovers. A partnership.

“He’s a traitor.” My gaze locked on hers, blue as the open sea, sharp with thought. “He will hang for his crimes.”

“Not burn.” She tested the boundary, a twitch betraying her urge to argue.

“Fire is a dangerous thing.” I reached for her cheek. Her skin felt cold against my palm as my thumb traced the shadows under her eye. “One moment, you think you have it under control. And then next—it’s feasting on everything you love.”

“And those who rose with him?” Her fingers shifted beneath mine, restless. “Are they not traitors too?”

“There must be trials.” I blinked, attempting to cover the twitch in my eye.

How many remained loyal to me? How much ruin bore my name?

“We have to consider those who bent to him because he threatened their children, their livelihoods. I’m sure there are those who are true to his cause, but Radaan honored me.

I fought beside their fathers. Bled with their sons.

Loyalty like that does not vanish overnight. ”

Her mouth pressed thin, lips pursed in thought. “We won’t know the depth of his treachery until we arrive.”

Now would be the time I’d tell lesser men not to worry over tomorrow. But I was a king. The worries of yesterday, today, and tomorrow all belonged to me. Those in power did not get the privilege of tossing their cares aside. Leadership offered no refuge from consequences.

“If Darius is dead, Tallon rules by force,” I said. “Fear cannot sustain loyalty.”

“And we will retake Reem.” Her words came soft. Hesitant and seeking. Unsure.

Because there would be bloodshed.

It was simply a question of how much.